


Soulbound: Almost Human

by ButterflyMama78



Category: Almost Human (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Asthma Attacks, Character Death, Dorian Is a Good Bro, Dorian can be a shit, F/M, Kidnapping, Soulbonds, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Torture, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyMama78/pseuds/ButterflyMama78
Summary: John Kennex wasn’t the only person deeply affected by the ambush that took his leg and left him in a coma.  His dad’s best friend, his mentor, lost his life in that raid and left behind his daughter.Emily Williams is hospitalized after an anxiety attack triggers one of the worst asthma attacks she’s ever had, thanks to the asshole cops attending her father’s memorial and the whispers blaming Detective Kennex.  Upon her release she sits with John while waiting on her ride, and finds herself drawn to him.  She visits him every day, opening up to him in a way she never could with anyone other than her adoptive parents.The day John meets her is the day he meets Dorian.  There’s something familiar about her, but he can’t place it.  When he speaks to her for the first time Emily nearly panics, he can’t possibly be her soulmate.  But he rejects her, as the first thing he hears her say is not the rambling monologue imprinted on his side.Heartbroken, Emily struggles with her anxiety, her asthma, and her coping mechanism of self-harm and buries herself in her work alongside Rudy in the lab.  She can only hope that he is her soulmate, as she had fallen head over heels for him before she even met him…
Relationships: john kennex/OFC
Comments: 26
Kudos: 14





	1. Meeting John Kennex

**Author's Note:**

> I love the soulmate trope, and I love John Kennex.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Almost Human or its characters, only my OCs.

Almost Human: Soulbound  
Chapter One

“Samuel Jacob Williams is… was… my hero,” she schooled her grimace as she stared down at the paper in her trembling hands. For a moment the blue ink blurred out of focus, but three rapid blinks of her baby blue eyes cleared her vision. “He was a wonderful husband and father, the best dad a girl could ever hope for, and he was a great detective.” A slight wheeze rattled up her throat. “He always knew he would die in the line of duty, more than once he would tell me he wouldn’t go down without a fight but he would be damned proud to give his life if it meant The City would be safe for another day.  
“He spoke often of his old partner and the rookies he’d break in, the fresh new detectives he trained. They were more than coworkers, fellow cops and detectives, they were his other family. His brothers and sisters in blue. I grew up hearing many funny stories about the job, and as I got older he opened up about the harder cases. Losing Eddie Kennex had been one of the hardest moments for him, Eddie lost his life shortly after Mom lost her battle with cancer. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to hear him drunk and arguing with Sandy and two other detectives as they dragged him into the house and to his bedroom. It took him a week before he could open up about Eddie, and another week before he could face his coworkers and Eddie’s son.” Her eyes blurred again. She blinked them several times to clear them, gripping the podium with her free hand to ground herself as she realized it was her anxiety rearing its ugly head. “He made me promise not to follow in his footsteps as a cop, and I reminded him that I preferred to tinker with the guts of an android or a computer. I’ll help keep the city safe by keeping the MXes in tiptop condition.”  
Her ears perked up when she heard someone seated behind Sandy mutter something that sounded like “Kennex”. She looked up just in time to catch the look that crossed her godmother’s face.  
Sandy shook her head, indicating for her to continue.  
“Daddy was proud of every one of you,” she went on, only to stop when she noticed several of the cops were whispering to one another. She caught “Kennex” and “setup” and “he never should’ve been leading that raid”.  
Anger flooded through her, white hot. The hand holding the paper her notes were written on clenched. “We are here to remember a detective, not trash talk a fellow cop,” she snapped. “Daddy spoke highly of John Kennex! He spoke more about John and Martin Pelham, Eddie and Sandy than he ever spoke about anyone else! He would be ashamed that you guys are on a witch hunt at a memorial service for a fallen detective!” She wadded up her paper and threw it aside. “This is the hardest thing I have to do today, saying goodbye to my father, the only blood family I have left! And you’re talking crap on a man who is in a coma in the hospital, hanging on by a thread when his best friend and his mentor died!” She looked out among the crowd of fifty men and women gathered in the chapel, taking in the shocked looks on their faces. “Here I am, twenty-five years old and honoring the life and death of the most important person in my life and you all are acting like a bunch of immature assholes ganging up to beat the hell out of someone!” She took a step back from the podium, pride filling her chest for standing up and speaking out in defense of someone who wasn’t there to defend himself. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves for ruining what should have been a remembrance!”  
Her chin wobbled. Her eyes burned. Her chest tightened.  
Her vision blacked out.

Emily Williams zipped her backpack and set it on the table next to the teddy bear and the vase with a small bouquet of sunflowers and daisies.  
Her phone vibrated on the bed behind her. Her eyes slid shut for a moment as she drew in a slow, deep breath before she picked up the device. Seeing her godmother’s name she tapped answer. “Hey, Sandy.”  
“Hi, Sweetie,” Captain Sandra Maldonado’s voice sounded a tad frazzled. “I can’t leave just yet to pick you up. We had a lead come in a few moments ago.”  
“On the ambush?” She reached up with her free hand to rake her shoulder-length chocolate brown locks from her face.  
“Not the ambush, but on a related case,” Sandy told her. “It’ll be maybe half an hour before I can leave the precinct. I know you’re ready to get the hell out of the hospital--”  
“It’s fine, Sandy,” Emily couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips. “I’m in no hurry to go… to go home. I am ready to get out of this room. I’ve already told one of the CNAs to just rename 418-B the Emily Rose Williams Room.”  
Sandra laughed at that. “They do keep admitting you to that particular room, don’t they?”  
She shook her head. “Yeah, they do.”  
“Well… Since you’ll be there for at least another hour, would you feel up to going upstairs to visit with John? I’m not going to be able to visit with him tonight. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be here late working this lead.”  
“Sandy, I could always call a cab or one of my neighbors to come get me,” Emily offered, moving toward the window to look out at the street below. “If this case is related to the raid I don’t want to pull you away from it.”  
“I’m coming to get you, Emmie, I need to give my brain a break for a little while and check on John,” Sandy’s tone brooked no argument. “I’ll be there when I get there, we’ll grab lunch, and if you decide you want to stay somewhere else tonight you are more than welcome to go to my place.”  
She couldn’t help but smile again. There was no arguing with the redhead. “All right. I’ll go sit with Detective Kennex and wait for you.”  
“Any place in particular for lunch?”  
“I’m not really hungry, but considering breakfast was turkey sausage and rubbery eggs, I’d settle for noodles,” she shrugged.  
Sandra snorted. “You and Kennex would get along famously, Kiddo. He would live off noodles every day if he could get away with it.”  
“With all that salt?” Emily shuddered. She loved Chinese noodle dishes, but every once in a while was enough for her. They tasted too salty for her.  
“Yeah,” her godmother murmured. “Will you need to stop anywhere else before I take you home?”  
“I’ll call the pharmacy to deliver my prescriptions,” she answered.  
“Okay. I’ll be there when I can. Oh, and Emily?”  
“Yeah, Sandy?”  
“Talk to Kennex? They say that a person in a coma can hear when someone speaks to them. John could use another friendly voice.”  
Emily nodded. “What would I say? I’ve never met him, Sandy.”  
“Talk about your dad, or about yourself. Tell him you’re applying for an internship with Rudy. Those two butt heads a lot.”  
“Sandy, you know I hate talking about myself!”  
“John’s in a coma,” she reminded the younger woman. “He needs to hear a friendly voice. And even if he were awake, he wouldn’t tease or pick on you. He’d probably flirt with you.”  
“I doubt that, Sandy,” Emily turned away from the window.  
“Oh, he would, and he’s so terrible at it,” Sandra’s humor faded. “John’s going to need all the support he can get.”  
“I’ll do what I can, Sandy,” Emily agreed softly.  
“Okay,” her godmother murmured. “I’ll see you when I get there. Hopefully I can sneak out of here in thirty.”  
“You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want,” she grinned, knowing full well what Sandra was going to say.  
“I am, but I prefer to lead by example,” she laughed.  
They ended the call with a quiet see you later.  
Emily slipped her phone into the back pocket of her distressed skinny jeans before she walked over to the chair near the bed to wait on the charge nurse to bring the discharge paperwork and doctor’s orders.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of the private room Detective Kennex was in.  
“It’s good to see someone other than Captain Maldonado visiting the detective,” the CNA escorting her murmured.  
Emily looked at the blonde, eyes wide. “No one else has been here?”  
Sarah, she belatedly recalled the woman’s name, shook her head. “Not a soul. Does he not have any family or friends?”  
“His dad died ten years ago,” her heart ached for the man. “A few months after my mom passed away… His mom… I think my dad told me Detective Kennex’ mom passed away when he was in high school. As for friends… I honestly don’t know, I’ve never met him,” she confessed. “He worked with Daddy, he’s close with Sandy. He lost his entire team in that raid, and everyone else is working long hours trying to find the people responsible.” She dragged her eyes from the frosted panel of the door to the CNA beside her. “Sandy said he has a girlfriend. She’s not been in?”  
“He’s been here for thirteen days,” Sarah’s mouth twisted into a frown. “The captain has been the only visitor. And now you.” She pressed a button on the panel beside the door. “Come on, let me introduce you to our resident strong and silent detective.”  
Emily followed the blonde into the room, her baby blue eyes sweeping the sterile space. No flowers, no cards, no stuffed animals. Just a framed photograph on the small dresser by the bed and a dragon figurine. She set her bouquet and bear on the counter by the sink before slowly approaching the bed.  
“Detective Kennex, you have a new visitor,” Sarah spoke in a cheerful voice as she gently adjusted the detective’s position and checked the leads and IVs. She stepped back and motioned for Emily to come over.  
Emily shrugged her backpack from her shoulder and set it on the chair as she joined the CNA. She looked at the blonde. “I have no idea what to say to him,” she whispered.  
Sarah smiled as she squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “Basketball or hockey scores, the weather, maybe something you’ve tried recently that you absolutely love. We talk to him every time we’re in here, hoping he’ll wake up and tell us to shut up. A couple of us are keeping him up to date on our favorite soaps, even if he’s not a fan.”  
She managed a smile at that. “I don’t watch soaps or sports, I’m a grad student.”  
“Then talk about your studies,” Sarah headed for the door. “Thank you, Miss Wililams, for coming up here.”  
She nodded before she slowly turned back to face the detective. She reached out and took John’s left hand in her two cold hands. A shiver of heat coursed through her from the feel of his limp, callused hand in hers. She smiled shyly as she studied the healing bruises and cuts on his face, the scar on his chin. “Um, hi, Detective Kennex, I’m Emily. I hope you don’t mind me, someone you don’t know… I… I’m not exactly a stranger since you worked with my dad… I hope it’s okay for me to come visit you while you’re in the hospital. I’m waiting for my ride to pick me up and she wanted me to wait here for her. She’s been visiting with you a lot, and I… Nobody should be alone in the hospital. If it weren’t for her, I.... I, uh,” she laughed nervously when she felt his hand squeeze hers. His heart rate kicked up briefly on the monitor attached to the bed. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… You probably can’t even hear me since you’re in a coma, but I want you to know that I hope you have a quick recovery.” She reached up with her right hand to comb her fingers through his dark hair. She smiled when his brow furrowed slightly. Was he ticklish? Was he responding to her touch? Or was it just a random tic totally unrelated to external stimuli?  
She quickly shrugged that thought off before reaching over to move her backpack off the chair. She pulled it toward her and sat down.  
“I just finished up my own hospital stay,” she said after wracking her brain for something else to say. She frowned when her lungs grew tight and shifted to fish her inhaler out of her jeans pocket just in case her growing anxiety brought on an asthma attack. “I have asthma,” she admitted with a twist of her lips. “I’ve got it under control for the most part but it’s mostly triggered by anxiety attacks. Three days ago was my dad’s memorial service. Quite a few of the officers and detectives attending were being disrespectful of Daddy, being disrespectful to me, they were talking about you, blaming you for the… for the lives lost… and I lost my temper. I stopped in the middle of the speech I’d prepared and ripped them a new one. I cussed in a church,” she could laugh about it now. Three days ago it had put her in the hospital. “I was so caught up in my emotions I didn’t realize my anxiety had gotten the better of me. One minute I was feeling proud for shutting them up, the next I’m waking up in the emergency room with an oxygen mask on my face and all kinds of monitors attached to me.” She stopped herself from continuing, remembering that initial panic and ripping the mask and the leads from her chest before the nurse returning to the trauma room stopped her. She didn’t need to unload on the detective. “Anyway they decided I could go home today. I’ve been meaning to come up here and visit with you anyway. I want you to know I don’t believe a word they were saying about you. I don’t blame you. Daddy thought the world of you, he was always talking about you to me. Said he wanted us to meet, but never did anything about it,” she smiled, shaking her head. “I asked him one time if he was ever going to take me to McQuaid’s to meet you some evening and he told me, ‘You’ll meet him when you’re supposed to meet him, Princess.’ I don’t know what he meant by that, he never answered when I would ask why.” She idly played with the callused fingers of the hand she still held. She blushed when she realized what she was doing, and stammered out an apology. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up to gently lay his hand on the blanket by his hip. “I’m holding your hand as if I have a right to, and I don’t, I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t realize I…” She stepped back from the bed as she scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m… I’m just not used to… to… this.” She started to pace the room. “Sorry, my anxiety is getting the best of me, and you’d think I’d be excited about getting out of the hospital after being a patient here myself. I am, but I’m not. I’m… I don’t want to go home to an empty house. I’ll… I’ll probably be ordering a pizza tonight, I don’t think I can handle cooking dinner for just myself. Dammit, I’m sorry, Detective, you’re in a coma and I’m unloading on you. I…” She jumped when the door opened, looking over to see Sandra Maldonado standing there with her coat draped over her arm.  
“Any change?” Sandy asked softly.  
Emily shook her head. “No, just reflexive movements,” she answered. She turned her attention back to the detective, her left hand curling over his left once more, her right hand stroking through his hair. “Can… can I come back…” She laughed nervously at herself. “Why am I even asking, you’re unconscious… If it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back tomorrow to sit with you,” she finished in a whisper. “Hospitals get awfully lonely.”  
Her eyes were drawn to her hand when she felt a slight squeeze.  
“Did he just…?” Sandra asked slowly.  
“I think it’s just reflexes,” she shrugged, but she squeezed his fingers. “I’ll be back tomorrow, sometime, Detective Kennex. I need to get my assignments and get caught up on what I’ve missed in my classes.” She smiled to herself as she pulled away. “Maybe I’ll work on my assignments while I’m here, work on them out loud. Some of the classes are very boring, I’m hoping that you’ll wind up coming to just to tell me to shut up and get out.”  
Sandra laughed. “That sounds like something John would do, but I doubt he’d ever say that to you, Emily,” she smiled. “I’ll just hound him about the paperwork that was supposed to be turned in weeks ago on the Andretti Corp case.”  
Emily giggled. “Daddy hated the paperwork part of the cases.”  
“We all do,” Sandra leaned down to grab Emily’s bag. She smiled sadly when she saw the flowers and the bear by the sink.  
“Thought I’d brighten up his room,” Emily shrugged.  
She nodded. “He’d appreciate it.” She slipped her arm around the younger woman when she walked over to her. “And I think he’d appreciate the company.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seventeen months later Emily is working for Rudy Lom. She continues to visit John and has been visiting him during her lunch breaks and after work. Her anxiety starts to build slightly as she and Rudy talk about Kennex and the possibility of him waking up soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of self-harm in this chapter. If this is something you're not comfortable with, I will completely understand if you choose not to read. I don't want anyone to be upset by something I've written, I want you to be safe and happy. *Hugs*

Chapter Two

“Good morning, Ms. Williams,” Rudy Lom called out from somewhere deep in the lab.  
Emily finished descending the stairs. “Good morning, Dr. Lom!” She called back as she headed for her desk. “Anything exciting on tap for today?”  
“Detectives Stahl and Vogel are bringing their MXes in for routine maintenance,” the thin technician appeared from the back, wiping his hands on a greasy-looking rag. “We will also be upgrading some of the datapads and computers for Delta.”  
“Sounds good,” Emily set her backpack on the floor and nudged it under her desk. “I should be able to take my usual lunch, then?”  
He grinned. “Yes, Ms. Williams,” he shook his head fondly. “Who am I to keep you from visiting Detective Kennex?”  
She ducked her head to hide the blush warming her neck and cheeks. “He’s steadily showing more signs of activity,” she told her boss as she opened the drawer containing her safety glasses. “The charge nurse told me last night she thinks he’ll wake up soon.”  
“That’s wonderful,” Rudy sat down at his own desk to look over the work orders for the day. “Wouldn’t it be something if he woke up during your lunch date?”  
She snorted. “Don’t call it a date, Dr. Lom!”  
I could never be that lucky, she thought with a pang in her chest.  
“What else am I going to call it? You take him flowers or cards for his birthday and holidays,” Rudy shrugged, sorting the work orders into two piles. “John is a good man.”  
“I know,” she nodded. She reached out to turn on her laptop. “Nothing will ever come of… this anyway. He’ll wake up believing he’s still in a relationship and I’ll be friendzoned.” She huffed out a quiet laugh as she dropped her right hand to the inside of her right thigh. “I have a demented soulmate out there somewhere as it is.”  
“Ms. Williams, you’ll meet your soulmate when it is time,” Rudy pushed away from his desk and walked over to her. “John has a soulmate out there, too. Perhaps… perhaps his soulmate is you.”  
“That’s absurd!” She scoffed at him. “He’s fifteen years older than me, he can’t be… I don’t believe it.”  
Rudy awkwardly patted her shoulder. “It’s not unheard of for soulmates to have differences in age.”  
“He wouldn’t want me, anyway,” she shook her head. “He probably never did.” She reached over and took the celos from his hand. “I take it these are my tasks?” She changed the subject, hoping to take her mind off that familiar itch in the back of her mind, the itch that told her to cut.  
No, Emily. It’s been months since the last time.  
Five months.  
Five months since she’d taken an X-acto knife to her left arm and sliced shallow cuts into the fleshy part below her elbow. Six months since she’d added to the growing collection of scars on her arm.  
I can do this. I can fight this. I can beat this, she told herself.  
The urge to cut was always there, it always would be. But she hadn’t felt the urge this strong since the anniversary of her father’s death.  
“Ms. Williams?”  
She blinked her eyes as she realized Rudy had asked her a question. She looked over at him. When did he return to his desk? She caught the worried look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lom, I must have zoned out. What were you saying?”  
“Are you okay?”  
Her brow furrowed. “I’m fine, Dr. Lom.”  
“You looked like you were in pain,” he told her softly. “Are you all right?”  
Lying to her boss would be a very bad move, but Emily could not bring herself to admit her darkest secrets to him. She did not want his sympathy. She did not want him walking on eggshells around her. But she had to tell him something.  
“I’m feeling anxious,” she shrugged. “I want John-- Detective Kennex to wake up from his coma just like you and Sandy and the entire staff on the fifth floor at County, I do want to officially meet him, but…” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m afraid he’ll either not remember me at all or he’ll think I’m some nutcase stalker who decided to visit him every day for seventeen months.”  
All of that was true, she just could not bring herself to admit to him that she was losing her battle with trying not to self-harm.  
Or that she had, over the course of seventeen months, fallen in love with the comatose detective.  
“John would never think you’re a nutcase or a stalker, Emily,” Rudy gave her an encouraging, if awkward, smile. “He looked up to and respected your father, we all did. Even if he wakes up and doesn’t remember you, he’ll still know you’re Sam Williams’ daughter. But, should he decide you’re a stalker, you’ve got Captain Maldonado and I on your side.”  
She smiled a real smile at him. “Thank you, Dr. Lom,” she murmured.  
The itch began to fade.

“Hey, John,” she set her takeout bag on the table next to the chair before she approached the bed. As she did every day for seventeen months, Emily covered the detective’s left hand with hers before leaning over the bed to press a soft, fleeting kiss to his forehead. She smiled when she felt his brow smooth out and his hand twitch under hers. The nursing staff had told her he only reacted to her touch, her presence, no one else could elicit any response from him. “Dr. Lom was generous to extend my lunch break today, you’ll get to suffer for forty-five minutes of my company,” she squeezed his hand before smoothing the blanket over his chest and brushing her fingers through his hair. He twitched slightly. “The CNAs have a betting pool on when you’re waking up. They all think you’ll wake up before the weekend, Monday at the latest. Dr. Lom thinks you might wake up today while I’m visiting.” She sighed as she grabbed her food and sat down. “I took advantage of the longer lunch break and swung by my favorite noodle joint. I’m hoping the aroma of drunken noodles and egg rolls will entice you to wake up, but I’m not going to share. This is my favorite dish and I’m afraid it’ll be too much for your stomach to handle after being fed nutrients through a tube for seventeen months. You’re probably going to hate life for a while. But once you’re able to eat regular food, I’ll gladly treat you to lunch sometime. Or supper.”  
As she ate she talked about one of the datapads she was servicing. “Some moron in the division thought it was a wise idea to look up android porn on his work tablet and now it has computer STDs,” she shook her head. “I’m not even sure how that would work, I know there are sexbots but I’ve only ever heard of female bots. Most masculine bots I’ve seen are the MXes and the DRNs. MXes definitely aren’t equipped below the belt and aren’t programmed to express emotions anyway. I know the DRNs are programmed to ‘have a soul’ but I don’t know about their physical structure,” she ate a little more before continuing. “Dr. Lom has a DRN in storage, I could always take a peek when I duck back there to scavenge for parts,” she grinned at that. “But I’m not a perv, I promise. Anyway, Sandy was livid when I called to tell her what I’d found on this datapad. Pretty sure the detective will be wishing he was fired and not riding a desk for the next month. I reminded her he could’ve looked up worse stuff, but as she said, he was using division-owned tablet that had access to cases and files someone could easily hack. And now I have the fun job of programming every device in Delta to restrict his usage.” She finished off the noodles. “Thankfully I can upload that program onto just one device and with everything being connected I can remotely upload it to every Delta-owned computer, laptop, tablet, watch, phone, and MX. The best part is he has to wear a tracking bracelet in order to access any device. If he’s not wearing it, he can’t even turn on a computer. If he is wearing it, he will have very limited access to the interwebs.” She picked up her egg roll. “Between you and me, I think Rudy was a little upset that I wound up with that datapad to work on.” She looked over at John. “Don’t give him hell about possibly being into android porn, please? I really like my job and I don’t want to get fired.”  
She finished off her egg roll and eyed the second egg roll. “I don’t know why I ordered two of these,” she moaned miserably. “I’m already hating myself. I’m stuffed, all that salt’s not doing me any good…” She fished the plastic-wrapped fortune cookie out of the container and set it in front of the framed photograph Sandra had brought in all those months ago. She traced her fingers over her father’s smiling face and wondered for the five-hundredth time who had taken the photo of John, Sam, Sandra and Marty at McQuaid’s the night they’d gathered to celebrate John’s 39th birthday.  
Her smile slipped when she realized it was probably John’s missing girlfriend.  
“I wouldn’t eat that fortune cookie,” she said after a moment. “They will leave your stomach in knots.”  
She busied herself with gathering up her stuff. “I should be heading back to the lab,” she told him before turning to the bed. “I’ll be back this evening after I get off work. Hopefully nothing happens at the last minute to tie me up. I’m…” she realized she was scratching at her left arm. “I feel off today. The… the urge to grab a small blade and cut is borderline overwhelming… worse than it was five months ago,” she busied her hands with straightening and smoothing his blanket. “I don’t think I could handle the overtime today.” She ran her fingers through his hair before taking his left hand in hers and leaning down to brush a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek. “I’ll swing by after shift and sit with you until the nurses kick me out. I really don’t need to be alone. I’ll see you later, John,” she whispered before stepping back.  
She grabbed her food and her bag before heading toward the door. With one last look over her shoulder she managed a smile. “I’ll be here.”

Emily logged off her computer and shut it down with a heavy sigh. The program and the bracelet had taken a little longer than she’d expected, and she had finally finished working on Stahl’s MX twenty minutes ago.  
But now that her hands were idle and her brain not focused on something that itch was back ten times worse than it had been when she’d first noticed it that morning. Maybe if I’m lucky Sarah will let me stay past visiting hours ends.  
She started gathering her stuff when her phone buzzed. She frowned, slipping it out of her back pocket. “Sandy, if you’re calling about a last minute work request, the answer is ‘no’. I’m tired and just want to get out of here.” She looked over her shoulder toward Rudy’s desk and frowned when she realized he wasn’t there. “What time is it, anyway?”  
“Nineteen hundred hours,” Sandra answered. “John woke up this afternoon, shortly after you left.”  
“That’s great!” Emily smiled. “I’m getting ready to head over there--”  
“Emmie, he had a very bad reaction when he found out how long he’s been in a coma,” her godmother told her. “He exploded when he discovered his right leg is gone. John’s not in the right frame of mind right now. He needs time to process everything before anyone other than me can visit. I’m sorry, Sweetie, I know how much visiting him means to you. I’m going to go see him, then I’ll come over and fill you in some more, okay?”  
Emily squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the tears she could feel burning at the bridge of her nose. “Is he… Is he going to be okay?”  
“I hope so,” Sandy admitted quietly. “I don’t want you visiting him until he’s had the chance to come to terms with everything. He doesn’t know about Marty or Sam, I was told he doesn’t remember much of the ambush. I don’t want you getting hurt should he lash out if you’re there, Emily.”  
She nodded even though Sandra couldn’t see her. “Okay… Thank you for calling me,” she whispered.  
“I’ll see you later,” Sandra murmured before ending the call.  
Emily numbly stuffed her phone in her pocket.

She didn’t remember the drive home from the lab or even walking into the small apartment she’d been renting for the past year. She didn’t remember checking the mail, yet she dropped her mail and her keys on the antique oak coffee table with it’s scratched and marker-stained surface.  
She felt numb yet at the same time she felt that itch.  
She didn’t remember going to sleep on the bathroom floor.  
She just knew she woke up to someone shaking her shoulders and crying her name.  
Emily blinked open her eyes and frowned when she saw Sandy hovering over her.  
No, not hovering. Patching her up.  
She frowned, looking from her godmother to her arm.  
“I’m taking you to the ER after I get you patched up,” Sandy’s voice was firm. “You should’ve told me, Emmie! You should’ve told me you were feeling that urge!”  
Emily didn’t answer.  
She didn’t know what to say, how to respond.  
She was just… numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to have an update so soon, but this chapter was begging to be written. Er, rewritten. I've been working on this fic for a few years but I hadn't been happy with how the first part of the story was going and would follow other plot bunnies for both this story and my other stories. Originally I had planned to write a chapter highlighting her daily visits to John during his coma, but realized it would draw things out and probably bore you to death. I realize right now there will be a lot of unanswered questions (why is Emily comfortable with opening up to John about her cutting? When did she start working for Rudy?) but I promise you those questions will be answered within the next few chapters.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily is tasked with working on MXes at the precinct on the day John Kennex returns to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not stated how long it took between John waking up from his coma and returning to work. I know Maldonado mentions a month but realistically, even 30 years in the future with medical and scientific advancements, one month is not enough time for physical rehab and acclimating to a prosthetic leg, along with psych evals. I settled with a two month time span to give John a little extra time, as he wasn't mentally ready to return to work.

Two months later…  
Emily carefully stored her datapad in a side pocket of her toolkit, wishing Rudy would go to the precinct instead.   
Normally she didn’t mind going to the MX bay and running diagnostics or performing quick repairs or upgrades. She kept to herself and nobody bothered her. A couple of the detectives would wave to her or acknowledge her in some way (usually it was Valerie Stahl, she was super sweet), and sometimes Sandy would page her up to her office just for a quick chat and make plans for a drink after work.  
But today… Today was different.  
Today Detective John Kennex might possibly be returning to work. He had been putting it off, but Emily knew Sandy would push him into coming back. The department needed him.  
And Rudy had tasked her with getting an MX ready to work with the man, on top of working on a few other androids while she was at the precinct.  
Her hands shook as she unzipped the main compartment of the black duffel, double-checking that she had all the tools she needed for quick repairs and upgrades.   
“Emily, your inhaler?”  
She turned at Rudy’s concerned voice to find him standing next to her with one of her inhalers held out to her. Her brow furrowed as she took it from him, meeting his worried eyes.   
“You’re wheezing,” he simply stated.   
Emily felt it then, the rattle deep in her lungs. She quickly dosed herself before pocketing the device. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.  
“Is everything all right?” Her boss patted her shoulder in an awkward attempt at comfort. “You’ve been to the precinct several times before.”  
She nodded. “Yeah, but… This is the first time I’ll be there when he might be there.” She turned back to her duffel.  
“Oh.” He patted her shoulder again. “I’ve read several studies on comatose patients. Seventy-six percent have retained a high level of sensory awareness and can recall conversations, odors, touch. He will remember you.” 

Pulling into the first available spot she could find near the precinct, Emily parked her car but sat there, hands gripping the wheel as she struggled to tamp down the growing anxiety. A horn honked not too far behind her and she startled, a ragged wheeze ripping out of her throat.   
It took her a moment to remember how to unwrap her fingers from the steering wheel, the knuckles locked from how tight her grip was. Another wheeze, sharper this time, spurred her into moving faster to get her inhaler and dosed herself with the albuterol.  
“Focus, Emily. This is just routine. You’ve done this a hundred times, you can do this with your eyes closed. Go in there, do your job, get back to the lab.”  
Thirty minutes later she had completed running diagnostics and upgrading 785, the MX assigned to work with Detective Kennex.  
“There, you’re ready for duty once your partner arrives,” she murmured. “Your charge is low, why don’t you return to your charging station while I see to the rest of the MXes on my work order?”  
She immersed herself in more diagnostics, quick repairs and upgrades. By the time she finished and logged her notes on her datapad, signed off that the requests were completed and transferred them to the original work request, the MX was fully charged and ready to deploy.  
“I’ll walk with you,” Emily shouldered her duffel and picked up her datapad.   
Her breath rattled in her lungs on the elevator. Emily shifted her tablet to her other hand and slipped her inhaler out of her pocket, ready to use if needed. She heard 785 shift next to her.  
“Your vitals are increasing, Ms. Williams--”  
She wheezed. “I am aware,” she lifted the inhaler to her mouth. She waited a moment as the medicine spread through her lungs before she spoke again. “I have anxiety-induced asthma,” she held up her hand when the MX fully turned toward her. “I do not require medical assistance.”  
“Your vitals state otherwise, Ms. Williams.”  
“If I feel worse, I will call my doctor,” she sighed, stepping off the elevator when the doors slid open.   
She looked around the bullpen, taking in the activity. Detective Stahl stood with two other detectives, their attention focused on something across the room from them. She followed their gazes and froze.  
John Kennex stood at a desk, speaking with the officer seated behind it.  
Her heart ached fiercely as she watched him sign something and turn toward the direction she needed to go. His stride had a bit of an odd gait to it, barely noticeable. But he was awake, he was walking.  
He looked so handsome.  
“Your… your partner, Detective Kennex, is headed to Captain Maldonado’s office,” she turned to the MX. “Why don’t you go meet him?”

Detective John Kennex turned away from the desk to head to the captain’s office. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned. His eyes fell on a petite brunette wearing skinny jeans, combat style boots, and a snug cranberry colored long sleeved henley waiting for an elevator, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. When she turned to glance over her shoulder and their eyes met, he frowned slightly as something tugged at the back of his mind. A memory? A conversation? Do I know her?  
It was gone before he could even grasp it.  
“Detective Kennex, I’m 785,” an MX approached him, drawing his attention from the baby blue eyes he’d seen and the sadness within them. The android kept pace with the detective as he turned back toward the office. “I’ve been assigned to you. I am aware this is your first day back. I only want to make your acclimation to active duty as smooth as possible for you. I’m here to attend to all your n--”  
John stepped into Sandra’s office, shutting the MX out. “I’m not driving with one of those things,” he griped at the captain. “A human partner was good enough for my father, it’s good enough for me.”  
Sandra had been expecting that argument from her friend. “Since you were last here, MX partners have become mandatory. I’m not going to fight you on some kind of regulation thing, okay?” She leveled as stern a look as she could on him.   
He held his ground. “I’m not doing it.”  
“Like hell you’re not,” Maldonado shot back. “Have you read Tilden’s profile of you? And, by the way, he is a very capable psychiatrist,” she was quick to state. She knew John better than she knew herself. The man hated shrinks more than he hated MXes. “‘Kennex should return to service, never’,” she quoted from the file.   
“Never? Wow, that’s… that’s a long time,” he snorted.  
Sandra continued as if John hadn’t interrupted. “‘Kennex is suffering from depression, mental atrophy, trauma-onset OCD, PTSD, and psychological rejection of his synthetic body parts’.”  
“Well, that last part is true,” Kennex agreed.   
It was bad enough he’d lost his best friend in that ambush. He lost a good chunk of his memory, his mentor, his leg, seventeen months of his life, and his girlfriend disappeared. Learning all of this when he’d woken up craving, of all things, vanilla cupcakes (he was a donut guy) had unsettled him. Discovering that what was left of his right leg had been modified for a synthetic prosthesis had sent him over the edge.  
“Listen,” Sandra drew his attention back to her. “You’re the only person more desperate than I am to find out how inSyndicate learned about that raid. If we work together, we can do it.” She pulled up a video for him to watch from the incident she had called him in for. “This happened a few hours ago. Robbery target was an armored truck, carrying bio research. If this is an inSyndicate operation, it might help us to learn more about them.”  
John studied the video as she spoke. “What’s the connection?”  
“Parabolic pulse charge was used to stop the vehicle,” she answered. “I haven’t seen that since the ambush.”  
He hid his flinch at the mention of the very thing that took his leg. “Well, sure looks like inSyndicate,” he affirmed. “Inventory report?”  
“That’s not in yet,” she shook her head. “Whatever they wanted, they killed four security guards to get it. One of the thieves was shot. He’s being treated at County. John? Keep the inSyndicate connection between us, okay?”  
“You think someone in the department’s working with them?” He asked.  
“You’re the only guy I trust here,” Sandra admitted.   
John mentally shoved back the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Okay. I’ll check it out,” he agreed.  
“One more thing,” Maldonado stopped him when he reached the door. “Go easy on your partner.”  
Yeah, right, Kennex opened the door. He barely even looked at the MX. “Come.”

Emily felt the back of her neck tingle, as if she were being watched. She knew her anxiety was getting the better of her and tried to ignore it, yet she still looked over her shoulder.  
Her eyes locked with a pair of hazels. John Kennex was looking at her.   
The elevator arrived just as 785 greeted Kennex, breaking the connection. She thought she caught a flicker of agitation on the detective’s face before he turned toward Sandy’s office. She turned to step onto the elevator, her chest growing tight. She watched as Kennex stepped into her godmother’s office and shut the door on the MX as the elevator doors slid shut.  
Her eyes burned as she realized just how desperately she had missed the detective. For seventeen months he had been her one constant. For seventeen months she’d had a purpose, a reason. She’d been happy.  
But these past two months? Her world had been turned upside down.   
She’d gone from seventeen months of living to two months of existing.  
Emily blinked away the tears before the elevator came to a stop on the first floor. As she made her way out of the building she felt a familiar and very unwelcome itch, her new constant. No, don’t… you can do this. You don’t need to cut. You’re stronger than this.  
“I don’t think I am,” she whispered to herself when she reached her car.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily finally meets a very much awake Kennex... but how will it go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: self-harm. This chapter is a bit more graphic in terms of mentioning cutting.

Emily buried herself in work once she returned to the lab. Anything to get her mind off the itch that had grown steadily more pronounced with each mile she put between herself and the precinct. But even her personal project she hoped to pitch to the police department could not keep the itch at bay.  
She pushed her sketchbook away and spun around on her stool. “Focus, Emily,” she murmured to herself, pushing herself into another spin.  
“Emily, are you all right?” Rudy asked from his desk, not looking up from the robotic butterfly he was working on. A blue morpho, she smiled when she recognized the shape and color of the wings.   
“I’m… I saw him this morning,” she finally told her boss. “I’ve been feeling out of sorts since.”  
Rudy nodded slowly. “I wondered if he would finally come in.”  
“He did,” she sighed. “Part of me wants to meet him… but at the same time…”  
He lifted his magnifying glasses to look at her. “I know,” he nodded. “I understand, Emily.” He nodded toward her computer. “How far have you gotten on your project?”  
She couldn’t help but smile. Rudy wasn’t the best at offering comfort or advice, but he knew how to divert attention into safer territory. “I can’t focus on it right now, my mind is going ninety to nothing. I can’t decide if I want to start small or just go big.”  
“Ah,” he nodded. “Explain your concept to me again, maybe I can help steer your mind in the direction you need.”  
She dipped her head in agreement before picking up her sketchbook. “I already told you that I started brainstorming this idea when I was in grad school, before Dad…” She trailed off, her mind tripping back to the night she’d first dreamed up the concept. Sam had been working late on a case, and she’d sat up half the night waiting for him to come home so she could run the idea by him. Her dad had fully supported the idea. “Shortly before the raid,” she flipped to the front of the pad. “I got the idea after five K-9s were killed by that bomb they couldn’t detect during the big drug bust.”  
“I remember that one,” Rudy frowned. “Two of the handlers had been hospitalized.”  
“I remember when Daddy came home, he was devastated by the loss of the dogs. He always loved dogs and was planning on adopting one when he retired,” she continued softly. “He’d told me it was a senseless loss for the department, five incredible K-9 officers, all highly decorated. He said ‘we’ve got android cops to lead us into gunfights, why can’t the dogs have something similar?’ One day after class I went home and fell asleep, and dreamed about building an android K-9. When I woke up I started writing ideas down and sketching dogs. I nearly pounced on Dad when he got home, I was so excited to tell him.” She shook her head as she reached up to wipe away an unexpected tear. “The back story for the idea isn’t really that important.”  
“Yes, it is,” Rudy disagreed with her. “The idea had to come from somewhere, and the back story is the most important part of the conception.”  
She half-laughed at that. “It’s cheesy and sappy is what it is,” she argued. “Daddy loved the idea and encouraged me to go for it. I… I had actually planned to design and build one for my big project, but after Daddy… after he passed I couldn’t do it.” She shrugged again. “Daddy would have retired this year, that was his plan. Retire from active duty at sixty-five, teach some courses for the academy for a few years, and fully retire at seventy. I think I laid awake half the night, my mind racing in circles before it popped into my head that I needed to start working on the K-9 android.” She took off her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose. “The androids would be for the dogs the same way the MXes are for the police. Designed to sniff out or detect drugs, bombs, people. Send them into potentially volatile areas or situations. They would be equipped with built-in audio and visual recording, sensory detection and scanning, and transmitting information as it records to a datapad or an MX. The dogs we currently use have to be equipped and outfitted with microchips for identification and tracking, flak vests, protective booties, headgear with built-in audio and visual recording and transmitting devices, which weigh and slow the dogs down. The android K-9s would not need flak vests or helmets. Their eyes would be the cameras. Their ears the microphones,” she held the sketchbook over to Rudy. “I’m just undecided on big or little.”  
“What was your father’s favorite breed of dog?” Her supervisor asked as he looked at her notes and sketches.  
“He didn’t have a favorite breed,” she smiled. “‘Mutts are the best kind of dog you could ever ask for, Cupcake,’ he told me several times. Especially the old, the half-blind, or the three-legged ones. You show them love, they will love you forever.” She shook her head fondly. “He always spoke about this one dog he’d grown up with. He wasn’t sure what all Bobo was, part lab. Beautiful dog and faithful.”   
Rudy handed back the sketchbook. “If you need any assistance with this, I would be more than glad to help,” he told her.   
“Thank you, Rudy,” she hugged the book to her chest. “Mind if I take my lunch break and run out for something? I’ll pick something up for you, if you’d like.”  
“That would be wonderful,” he nodded. 

The break away from the lab and out in the crisp fall air invigorated her and calmed that itch, that urge that had been crawling along her skin since the precinct. She almost hated to return to the lab. Almost. But she’d promised Rudy lunch and she’d taken the opportunity to run by her apartment to grab a photo from one of her dad’s old albums, a photo of his dog.  
She pulled up in front of the old church and frowned slightly when she noticed a flat black police issue sedan with a Saint Christopher’s Medal hanging from a chain on the rearview mirror. She felt her chest tighten.   
She heard the voices as she descended the metal stairs to the lab. She glanced around before finding Rudy and a tall man with his back to her, standing around the metal table away from their workbenches. She dropped off his lunch at his desk before shrugging out of her jacket and making her way over to join them.  
“All right, plug it in already,” a low, deep, very masculine voice nearly growled out with a touch of impatience. “I got to get back on the street.”  
Emily’s eyes widened when she saw the android on the table. A DRN. Why was he reanimating a DRN? Her eyes snapped up to Rudy as he held out the wand to the man across from him.   
“Okay. Please have the honor of waking him up yourself,” he addressed the man. “Touch it against his left ear.”  
The man shifted as he took the wand and followed the instructions.  
The DRN gasped, his black eyes immediately changing to a brilliant baby blue. “How long was I out?” he asked as he sat up and took in everything around him.  
“Uh, four years and three months,” Rudy answered the DRN’s question.   
The DRN focused his attention on the other man. The side of his face lit up as he scanned and processed information. “Detective John Kennex. I’m Dorian. How are you? Your record is outstanding.”  
Emily’s lungs constricted when she realized the man who still had his back to her was John. But why was he activating a DRN? Where was 785?  
“Used to be,” Kennex sounded a little put off.  
“Excuse me?” Dorian asked, curiosity filling his expression.  
“Update your files,” John started to turn. “Let’s go.”  
Emily felt her lungs rattle when John Kennex turned to face her. This time half the distance of the bullpen at the precinct wasn’t separating them. He was five feet from her now. Close enough to see the scar on his chin she’d become so familiar with. Close enough to breathe in a hint of the cologne he wore. Close enough to see the tension in his eyes.  
“Rudy, when did you get an assistant?” His eyes were locked with hers while he addressed Lom.  
“Emily has been working with me for a year now,” Rudy answered. “John Kennex, Emily Williams,” he quickly made the introductions.  
“So, what’s a girl like you doing working in a dungeon like this?” Kennex asked, his eyes studying her.  
He’s talking to me. Ohmygod he’s actually talking to me. He… Her eyes widened when his words sank in.   
The soul mark on her inner right thigh tingled. “You… You said my words,” her voice rasped out as her lungs grew tight. “This can’t… this can’t be real…” She fished into her pocket for her inhaler when a harsh wheeze gripped her.  
The warmth in his hazel eyes cooled considerably as his jaw ticked. “You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine,” his tone was hard, his words clipped. “Synthetic, let’s go.”

You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine.  
John Kennex’ cold, cruel words ran through her head on a rapidly increasing, distorting loop in Tilt-A-Whirl fashion. Over and over. Emily tried to shut her mind off, tried to put her focus on her project. She failed.  
That itch was back. She hadn’t realized it had faded earlier, but it was back with a vengeance. It took everything in her willpower to keep from grabbing an X-acto blade from her desk drawer and cutting into her forearm.  
Rudy had given up trying to ask if she was okay, she’d shut down on him when he had enquired if John really was her soulmate.  
She didn’t understand. His first words to her were the very words branded onto her inner thigh when she was born. So, what’s a girl like you doing working in a dungeon like this?   
Words that had caused her a world of hurt when she was barely a few minutes old, when her birth parents had taken one look at her tiny little leg… and rejected her. Words that had caused many potential foster and adoptive parents to turn their backs on her. Nobody wanted a baby, a child, branded with words insinuating a life of sexual debauchery. What else could those words mean? Especially with the location of those words on her body, indicating the soulbond would occur during a very intimate moment.  
Words that had shaped a young mind and made a little abandoned and nameless child decide she never wanted to ever meet the man she was fated to be with. Words that had left Baby Jane Doe fearful of what her life might be, fearful of never finding someone who truly loved her, fearful of always being rejected or thrown aside.  
The urge, the need to carve those words from her thigh was too strong. No matter how hard she tried she could not push those thoughts away. Not when they were gripping her. Suffocating her.  
She shoved away from her desk and ran toward the bathroom. She barely dropped to her knees before her stomach upended itself.  
Rejected.  
Abandoned.  
Forgotten.  
She retched until there was nothing left in her stomach. You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine.

Emily crawled under her work bench and grabbed her messenger bag. She ignored Rudy’s concerned glance (one of hundreds he’d given her all afternoon) and rooted her hand through her bag’s contents until she found the cold metal pill canister containing her anti-anxiety medication. She pressed her thumb to the top of the container before popping a tiny pill into her mouth and swallowing it dry.   
She hated taking the pills. Hated how lethargic and stoned they made her feel at times. She hadn’t done herself any favors, going fifteen months without taking them regularly, just on the bad days. But ever since John Kennex had woken from his coma and her visits were forcibly stopped (for her safety and well-being and for his own recovery and rehabilitation) she had been taking them daily, sometimes more. She wasn’t supposed to. Those daily visits had done more for her than those damned pills ever had, and without the comfort of that routine, without the soothing presence of the comatose man she had fallen in love with over time, she found herself relying more and more on a synthesized balm to soothe the anxiety. But it didn’t always work.  
She raked her fingers through her dark hair before folding her arms around her legs and burying her face between her bent knees. She had refused Rudy’s gentle suggestion of going home earlier, knowing full well what would happen the moment she was alone. She’d wind up finding something sharp. She’d wind up carving up her arm. She’d wind up carving the damned soulmark from her right thigh.  
She wanted to focus on something other than that damned itch. She wanted to be able to give one hundred percent of her attention to her job. She wanted to be able to crawl out from underneath her desk and not worry about giving into the consuming need to inflict pain to forget.  
To forget that the man she had fallen in love with had said her words.  
To forget that he had coldly rejected her.  
To forget that he had walked out and abandoned her just like every other person who was supposed to love her left.  
She stayed under the desk until the meds kicked in and that itch faded to a dull annoyance, burying herself in work when Rudy received a message alert from Dorian regarding a chemical analysis they needed.  
She worked late through the night with her boss, gathering the necessary equipment needed to reactivate the MXes that had gone down with the EMP used at the precinct. It took four hours, going floor by floor, to get the androids on their feet and fully functioning. Another two hours to repair some moderate damage to other synthetics.

It wasn’t until she was tucked away alone in her little apartment that her brave face came crashing down.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John starts to remember, but he has questions. He's in for a shock.

It had been an exhausting two days being back on duty. John wanted nothing more than to sleep for a couple of days, but he knew that was out of the question. A day off to catch up on sleep he’d lost after the break-in at the precinct was all he had gotten, once the reports were written and submitted to the captain.   
God, he hated writing reports.  
He dropped down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. So much had happened in the two days he’d been back on the job. Another cop dead at the hands of inSyndicate. His ex-girlfriend involved in that gang. And…  
A soulmate.  
He didn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. But something told him she was telling the truth.   
Something about her seemed familiar. Her voice, her scent, he didn’t know, he couldn’t place it. But her name. He knew that name from somewhere. He recognized her, but he’d never seen her before in his life. Yet something in the back of his memories, the ones locked down so damned tight, stirred. A snippet had broken free the other night at the Recollectionist. A voice filled with sadness. A soft hand. Vanilla cupcakes.  
“It’s my birthday today, but I’m not celebrating. Why celebrate the day you were first rejected by the people who were meant to love you unconditionally?”   
He fell back against the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face with a frustrated growl. He couldn’t get her out of his head. Those baby blue eyes had haunted him since he’d first seen her at the precinct. He knew those eyes. Why did he know those eyes?   
He shifted to sit up. He raked his fingers through his dark brown hair. Food was a must. Maybe even a drink. Shower, definitely. And a nap. He’d been up all damn night writing reports after stopping the raid. He needed at least a three hour rest. Maybe another memory would jiggle loose along the way.  
He took off his watch and set it on the nightstand beside the bed. A small slip of paper fluttered to the floor from the displaced air. John leaned down to pluck it up from the rug. Normally he threw those nasty cookies away but something had compelled him to break open the one that had been left in front of that photograph Sandra had brought to that hospital room.  
You have already met your soulmate. You just don’t know it yet.  
He frowned, deep furrows creasing his forehead as he reread that damn fortune for the millionth time. “Bullshit,” he muttered as he set the fortune in front of the alarm clock. “I think I’d remember meeting her.”  
He had damn near a whole novel emblazoned on his left side, from the top of his hipbone to the bottom of his ribcage. Delicate handwriting of rambling words. Emily.  
His brow furrowed even more. “No,” he groaned. “It’s just a coincidence.”  
And he hated coincidences.  
Especially after Anna.  
He pushed to his feet and stalked over to his desk, pulling up the video call app to contact his best friend.  
It took a minute for her to answer. “Not right now, John, it’s a bad time.”  
He frowned. “Sandra, what’s going on?” He asked when he noticed the background behind her. “You at the hospital?”  
“I’m not hurt,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m here… with my god daughter.” She glanced over her shoulder but kept her phone focused on her. “Is it important?”  
“Yeah, but it can wait,” his brow furrowed even more. “God daughter… Sam’s girl?”  
Sandra’s eyes met his. “Emily,” she nodded that time. “She… she had a nasty asthma attack.”  
Emily.  
His face scrunched up as he remembered the Emily he’d met yesterday wheezing and using an inhaler. “Wait a minute. Is this the same Emily who works with Rudy?”  
“Yes.”  
“Finish suturing this cut, Emerson. Her O-sat is improving.”  
“Hold on,” Sandra’s attention drifted to the personnel behind her. “Will you be admitting her?”  
“No, ma’am. We’ll observe Ms. Williams for another hour. Her vitals are perking up, she’ll be going home today.”  
“Thank you,” Sandra managed a smile before turning back to her phone. “Rudy sent her home after they finished up at the precinct,” she said quietly. “He told me she was wheezing and had used up the last of her inhaler last night when they came in. I…” She sucked in a slow, steadying breath. “If I hadn’t gone to check on her when I did, she might’ve wound up being admitted.”  
John felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “How bad, Sandra?” He watched her eyes, how she averted her gaze and hesitated. When she reached up to scratch at the back of her neck he cleared his throat. “Truth, Sandra. You’re trying to cook up a lie there.”  
She sighed heavily. “You and Emily are the only people alive who know that tell,” she glared at him. “All I can say is she hurt herself. If I hadn’t gone to check on her, she would’ve lost a lot of blood.” She held up her free hand to silently warn him not to ask. “I can’t answer that question.”  
His brows snapped together over his nose. “You can’t, or you won’t?”  
“It’s not my place to say,” she shook her head. She looked over her shoulder again. “She’s sleeping?” She asked. “Thank you, I need to step away for a moment.”  
John waited as Sandra stepped out of the trauma room and walked to a quieter spot in the emergency department. “She gonna be okay?”  
“I hope so,” she shook her head, her expression one he hadn’t seen in a very long time. When his dad had failed to check in with Sam all those years ago. “Emily’s a fighter, she’s tough, but…” She stopped herself, sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her demeanor changed immediately. “You called me about something. What is it?”  
“It can wait,” he reminded her.   
“I’ve got at least an hour, John. If this wasn’t important, you wouldn’t have called.”  
“When I met Emily yesterday, she said I’d spoken her words,” he admitted. “She didn’t speak mine.”  
“What the hell did you say to her?” Sandra’s voice was as hard as her glare.   
“I told her she was mistaken, she never said mine. She’s not my soulmate, Sandra,” he reared back at the harsh look his best friend was leveling on him.   
“Oh my God…” Sandra covered her face with her free hand. “She visited you every day for seventeen months, John. She talked to you every time she sat with you,” her voice cracked. “Dammit.”  
“Sandra.”  
“I’ve gotta go,” she disconnected the call.  
John stared at the blank screen, baffled by the abrupt way Maldonado ended the call and the anger he’d glimpsed in her eyes. Anger directed at him.  
“What the hell did I do?” He muttered to himself before pushing away from the desk and wandering to the windows to look out over the water. “She didn’t say my words.”  
He lifted his right hand to his left side. “Even if she had, she wouldn’t want me,” his face twisted in disgust when his leg beeped out the calibration and low charge alerts. “I’m responsible for her dad’s death.”  
He turned from the wall and stalked toward the bathroom. Shower, food, drink, nap. Hopefully a full belly and a clear head would knock some of those damned stubborn memories loose.

Vanilla cupcakes. His heart thudded in his chest a little harder, a little faster. A soft, cold hand curled around his. A slight wheeze echoed through the room. “Hi, Detective Kennex.” Soft fingers brushed through his hair, warmth spreading through his chest as the blankets were straightened and her hands lingered. “Looks like you’ve gotten a shave and a haircut this morning. They won’t let you wear the scruffy look for long, and that’s a shame.”  
He chuckled, though no sound came out. “They don’t shave the way I like, Sweetheart,” he told her but his mouth didn’t move. He sighed happily when soft fingertips stroked along his jaw.   
“I think I like the scruffy look more.”  
“Oh, do you now?” He wished he could open his eyes and talk to her. “Why’s that?”  
A soft sigh echoed through the room, mixing in with the quiet beeping of the monitors measuring his vitals. The sigh ended on a louder wheeze and was followed by a whispered “Dammit” and rustling of clothes. The hand on his cheek pulled away before he heard the familiar sound of an inhaler being used. “I’ve been feeling anxious all day,” her soft voice spoke up once more. “I’m not sure why. I went to class, scheduled my thesis defence and presentation of the computer program I had written and designed, had lunch with Sandy, and got the call I’d been waiting on… I’m going for an interview tomorrow with Dr. Rudy Lom for an internship. I’m nervous about the defence, the presentation and the interview, but that’s not what’s causing my anxiety to flare up. I don’t… I can’t explain it, but it’s almost as if someone’s watching me. And when my anxiety flares up, my asthma flares up.”   
John stiffened. “Someone’s watching you? Sweetheart, pay attention to your surroundings, watch the shadows, the alleys, the doorways. Get a gun, let your friend know where you’re going at all times,” he wished he could tell her.  
“Sandy knows I’ll be here for a while, you know me, I’m usually here past visiting hours,” he could hear a smile in her sweet voice. Damn, he wished he could see her smile. “The nursing staff bends the rules for me. Maybe it’s because they’ve taken care of me when I’m admitted for severe asthma attacks or… no, I’ve only been admitted once for cutting too deep.”   
He frowned at that. “Sweetheart, what do you mean by that?” Dammit, he wanted to reach out and pull her into the bed with him so he could hold her.   
“Sometimes my anxiety gets to be too much, and if it doesn’t trigger an asthma attack it drives me to do something to take away that feeling. I…” Her footsteps alerted him she was putting some distance between them, her voice indicating she was facing away from him, possibly with her head down. “I self-harm.”  
Those three words were a sucker punch to the gut. “Baby, no…” Wake up, dammit, Kennex, that girl needs you!  
“I’ve been cutting or burning myself since I was… Since I was adopted, since that first Christmas when Daddy and Mom got into that argument with Daddy’s sister.”  
Adopted? “Sam’s not your dad?”  
“I’ve lived my entire life fearing rejection and abandonment by those I love,” her whisper was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

John jerked awake. “What the hell?” He grumbled as he shifted from his stomach to his back and scrubbed his hands over his face.   
Was it a dream? A memory? Couldn’t have been a dream, it was too vivid, too real. You don’t smell things in dreams.  
Vanilla cupcakes…  
Just like the other day at the precinct, when he’d first seen Emily. And later at Rudy’s lab when she’d walked over to join them. It was the exact same perfume or lotion or, hell, shampoo, whatever she used to smell pretty.   
He shoved his fingers through his hair as he dragged in a deep, slow breath. The wheezing. The sound of an inhaler. Familiar sounds.  
And her voice. Quiet. Soft. Shy. He knew her voice.   
He remembered her touch. The heat. The spark. The awareness, the longing, the cold and empty feeling after she had pulled away. The desire to reach for her and hold her.   
Another memory popped to the surface. Dammit, go away. Pretty sure it’s not the day I’m supposed to get a shave. Where’s Emily? I know she doesn’t visit the same time every day because of class and the internship, but I miss her… Dammit, I wish I could just wake up and look at her. Does she still look like the girl in the picture on Sam’s desk? When was it he brought that one in... four years ago after she had graduated from the university? Is her hair still long? Still brown? God, I hope she didn’t chop it off and lighten it up. I’m really not into blondes. Does she still wear glasses? Those black framed glasses are pretty cute on her. Cute and smart. Hell, Sam would kill me if he were still here, if he could read minds. Does she still have that old truck she rebuilt with her old man? God, he’d been so damned proud, always talking about her rebuilding that engine without memorizing the maintenance manual on it.  
He leaned down to grab the crutches he kept by the bed before making his way to the charging station to check on the progress of his leg.   
Twenty minutes later he had the synthetic on and calibrating and a breakfast burrito cooling on a plate. He sat down at his desk and pulled up the holographic sticky notes. He grabbed the stylus and made quick work of writing down everything from that dream, that memory, of Emily Williams visiting him at the hospital.  
Vanilla cupcake perfume.  
Adopted.   
Abandoned.  
Asthma.  
Anxiety.  
Rudy’s assistant.  
Self-harm.  
That last note he stared at.   
Finish suturing this cut…  
If I hadn’t gone to check on her, she would’ve lost a lot of blood…  
“Sonofabitch…” His heart sank when he realized what had happened yesterday.  
Sometimes my anxiety gets to be too much.  
I self-harm.  
I’ve lived my entire life fearing rejection or abandonment by those I love.  
He shoved to his feet and ran to the bathroom. He braced his hands on the rim of the toilet before he threw up.  
She hadn’t gotten hurt during an asthma attack.  
She had cut herself.  
Because of me.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After avoiding John for a few weeks Emily has to face him at a crime scene. An older model android, the likes of which Rudy has never even seen, seems out of place until they discover something disturbing in its memory banks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I didn't realize I haven't updated this one in over a month! I'd struggled with this chapter but then inspiration hit and this went in a totally different direction. I'm already partway through the next chapter as well. I would have posted over the weekend but the gorgeous weather finally gave my daughter and I the opportunity to make the trip to visit my daughter's 2 month old niece!

Emily pulled her jacket tighter around her as she climbed out of her car. The wind had a bite to it, the promise of a cold front and rain later in the day. She grabbed her kit from the back seat and locked the car before tipping her head up to the sky and breathing in deep.   
She subconsciously rubbed at her left arm, the newest scars bright pink but hidden under her sleeves. She closed her eyes, shame flooding through her. Two weeks may have passed since she’d sliced the crap out of the already-scarred flesh of her forearm, narrowly missing her artery but the pain remained. The physical pain was long gone, but the emotional pain lingered. Persisted. Taunted. The itch, the urge to self harm had not been soothed by the cutting. It had only worsened with each remembered word of the rejection.  
She hadn’t seen him in two weeks.   
She had taken every precaution to avoid being in the lab when John arrived to pick up Dorian or when he dropped him off. She ducked into one of the back rooms if John unexpectedly dropped in to ask Rudy a tech question. Her boss and friend was kind enough to not send her to the precinct when an MX needed routine maintenance or repairs. But she knew she needed to face him sometime. To accept that he did not want her. To move on with her life and accept that she would never be loved by those who were supposed to love her.  
But there was no avoiding him today.   
Emily adjusted her sunglasses and secured her grip on her kit before she walked toward the crime scene cordoned off with the holographic tape, where Rudy knelt beside a downed android. A quick scan of the scene showed her Detective Kennex and Dorian were with her boss, with several MXes, officers, detectives and CSIs gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses.   
As she drew closer she shoved her free hand into her front pocket, curling her fingers around her inhaler when her lungs grew tight. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “I can do this. Just another day on the job and what the hell is that?”   
Rudy looked up, excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Emily, check this out!” He waved her over. “Look at this!”  
Emily dropped down beside her boss, pointedly ignoring the detective across from her. “What’ve we got, Rudy?”  
“One of the first androids built,” he answered giddily. “I’ve read about them, but never have I laid eyes on one before.”  
“Looks like something from The Terminator,” she mused as she took in the dull red “eye” in the fiberglass skeleton exposed through charred synthetic skin.   
“The 1984 movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger?” Dorian grinned at her. “Or the 1992 sequel?”  
Emily smiled at the DRN. “The first one. Nobody understands my references when I mention any classic movies or music.”  
“Excuse me?” Rudy scoffed next to her.  
“Aside from you,” she knocked her shoulder against his.   
“Rudy, as you were saying,” John’s hard grumble interrupted.  
“This is a Tertiary One android, better known as a T-1,” the technician nudged Emily back. “The first T-1 was built in 2022 by Jacob Gibson, a brilliant Scotch-Norseman from New York. These were the first home security bots, built with a fiberglass skeleton and could be operated wirelessly through the internet. Interestingly enough, Gibson had attempted to build a prototype of a male sexbot, however he failed when it malfunctioned and electrocuted the person testing it. She received second-degree burns inside her vagi--”  
“That’s enough, Rudy,” John silenced the technician, his face twisting in mild irritation. “Why is a twenty-six year-old bot in the middle of a bank heist crime scene?”  
“Other than the damage to its left side the android is in near-pristine condition,” Rudy tilted his head as he leaned over the android. “I’d say it was stored properly in a sterile, controlled environment until recently and brought out to be used for whatever purposes needed.” He looked up at the detective, his brow furrowing. “It may very well be part of the crime, John. We will take it back to the lab and run diagnostics and hopefully access its memory.”  
“Rudy,” Emily reached across the android to the hand in front of John’s knee. “Look at his hand.”  
She jumped when a pair of black gloves were suddenly thrust forward.  
“Might wanna put these on before you touch the bot,” Kennex warned gently.   
She carefully took the gloves, offering the detective a shy smile. “Thank you.” She slipped them on before touching the hand. “The skin is different. Look at the right hand, and look at this one.” She shifted onto her knees to lean over the bot. “The difference is subtle, but they are different tones.”  
“I see it,” Dorian moved around John to get a better look at the hands. “Ms. Williams, the normal human eye would miss this.”  
She shrugged. “Yes, but an artist wouldn’t,” she looked up to meet the DRN’s brilliant blue eyes. “My mom was an artist. She taught me everything I know about colors and skin tones and everything in between.”  
“Maybe they ran out of the synthetic skin and had to use a different one,” John muttered.  
“No, Gibson was a perfectionist,” Rudy pointed out. “He would not have tolerated something that would be glaringly obvious to him. Check the wrists.”  
Emily and Dorian carefully eased the sleeves of the T-1’s shirt up.  
“Either the skin or the entire hand has been replaced,” the DRN frowned. “Look at the imperfections in the forearm.” His eyes flickered to the other hand. “The size difference between the two hands confirms this one has been replaced. The left hand is approximately 1.435 inches wider than the right.”  
“Dorian,” Emily lifted the hand she was examining and set it on the bot’s abdomen, indicating for the DRN to do the same. “We need to get this back to the lab… Rudy?”  
“I only have my car, you?”  
“Same,” she shook her head.   
“I’ll see if the crime scene techs can transport it to your lab in their truck,” John offered, shifting onto his left knee to lean over the android for a closer look. His brows lifted and fell as he shook his head. “I never would’ve noticed the difference in skin tone, or the size.”  
Emily grimaced as she pushed to her feet. “I almost didn’t see it. It was that freckle that caught my attention,” she motioned to the left hand. “At the base of the thumb.”  
“Androids built in 2022 did not have any form of blemishes in their synthetic skin,” Rudy frowned thoughtfully. “Nor do most synthetics built since. I’ve seen a rare few female androids with freckles or moles on their noses and faces,” he tapped the side of his mouth to indicate the Marilyn Monroe mole, “and one or two with freckles and beauty marks on their shoulders, never their extremities. Yet they were manufactured within the past five years...”  
Emily frowned at her boss. “Female androids are…”  
John cleared his throat. “I’ll go make arrangements with Andrews regarding transport,” he pushed to his feet. “Dorian.”  
“I’ll be right there, John,” Dorian lifted the left hand of the T-1 to get a closer look at the skin. “This is incredible,” he murmured to himself. “The skin is porous, like human skin, but it’s synthetic.”  
“Androids with human skin?” Emily moved around the bot to kneel beside the DRN. “Is that possible?”  
“We haven’t heard of any,” Rudy shook his head.   
“Just because we haven’t heard of it doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Dorian frowned. “Rudy, have you encountered any synthetic skin like this before?”  
“No,” the other man grinned. “I’ll have to analyze it and search the databases. Mimicking flawed skin is… it’s unusual, a signature of sorts, perhaps.”  
Dorian stood, extending his hand to Emily. “Ms. Williams?”  
She smiled as she slipped her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet. “Thank you, Dorian.”  
He nodded before heading off to join his partner.  
“I’m proud of you, Emily,” Rudy spoke quietly beside her.   
She turned to frown at him. “Why?”  
He nodded toward Kennex and Dorian. “If it weren’t for the fact I needed you here I would not have asked you to put yourself in the position of facing John when I know you’re still hurting.”  
She shrugged. “I can’t avoid him forever, Rudy,” she whispered. “He doesn’t want me, I just need to accept that and move on.”  
“I think he’s scared, if you ask me,” her boss pointed out. “Give him time, give him the chance to recover his memories. He will remember you. In the meantime, let’s see if they have anything else for us to look at or take back to the lab.”  
Emily managed a smile. “It’s false hope and wishful thinking, Rudy, to believe he will remember me. I’ll survive, just like I always have.”

Emily lightly drummed her fingertips over her computer keyboard as she read through the information she’d found on the Tertiary androids. “Hey, Rudy?” She hollered over her shoulder.  
Rudy looked up from the T-1 on the table. “Find something on our friend?”  
“Yes,” she left her desk to join him. “They have a data chip embedded in the motherboard, accessible behind the right ear. The chip should tell us who owned Arnold.”  
Rudy chuckled. “You named him Arnold?”  
“He reminds me of the Terminator, just not as intimidating,” she shrugged.   
“All right, Arnold, let’s roll you over,” the older technician nodded to Emily. Together they shifted the bot onto his left side, Emily holding him steady so Rudy could cut into the synthetic skin and find the motherboard. “The data will likely be outdated,” he warned. “And the camera eye was too damaged for us to access any recent recordings.”  
“For us, maybe, but not for Dorian,” she reminded him. “Vogel’s MX, remember?”  
“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “Could you hand me the tweezers, please?”  
She handed them over. “I’ll contact Dorian before I tackle the chip,” she murmured.  
“Might want to contact him now,” Rudy frowned. “I cannot extract the motherboard. I hope he can access the information from it as well.”  
Emily leaned over to get a better look, grimacing when she saw crushed circuitry surrounding the piece they needed. “Oh, no…”   
She eased the bot down before heading back to her desk and pulling up Dorian’s contact information on her phone. “Dorian, it’s Emily.”  
“Ms. Williams, do you have something for us?”  
“Not yet,” she sighed. “We need your assistance with accessing the video files and the data on the data chip. The head received more damage than we originally thought.”  
“What do you think is on the data chip?”  
“It should have the android’s history. Point of manufacture, serial number, list of owners, GPS tracking,” she replied. “Have you gotten any hits off the fingerprints McGinnis’ team found on it?”  
“No,” Dorian told her.   
“Dorian, who’re you talking to?”  
Emily stiffened when she heard John’s low voice.  
“Ms. Williams, she and Rudy need my help with the T-1.”  
“Tell her we’ll be on our way once I’m done here.”  
“No rush, Dorian, if you’re working a lead,” Emily spoke up. “Rudy and I have a million other things we need to do with Arnold.”  
The DRN chuckled. “The T-1 looks nothing like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”  
“I know,” she smiled. “I can’t keep referring to him as the android, the bot, the T-1.”  
“That’s how I got my name,” Dorian’s smile was apparent in his voice. “They hated referring to me as DRN and thought of the closest name to it.”  
“They could’ve called you Darlene, you know,” she struggled to keep her tone serious, dissolving into giggles when Dorian burst out laughing.  
“I should… let you go,” Dorian sputtered out. “John’s giving me a dirty look.”  
Emily sobered immediately. “Don’t need to give him another reason to hate me, do we?”   
“What makes you say that, Ms. Williams?”  
She squeezed her eyes shut when she realized she’d said that out loud. “Don’t pay any mind to me, Dorian,” she sighed.   
“I’m sorry, Ms. Williams.”  
“It’s okay,” she lied softly. “I’ll see you when you get here.”  
She ended the call before Dorian could ask any questions she did not want to answer and pushed her phone away from her.   
“He say how long they’ll be?” Rudy asked.  
“No,” she swiveled around to face him and pasted on as cheerful a smile she could muster. “Sometime today, I hope.”  
“While we wait, would you do the honor of running tests on the skin?”  
Emily pushed to her feet. “Anything else?”  
“Hair, too, it feels just as realistic.”  
“I can do that,” she grabbed a pair of gloves and joined Rudy at the table.

Emily’s jaw dropped when her search for the chemical makeup of the synthetic skin brought up several hits on realistic skin sex toys. Synthesized material invented forty years prior and more widely used in the adult pleasure toy industry than the hard plastic and silicone from before. Earlier she had been absolutely fascinated with how the material had felt, velvety, smooth, plush.  
Now?  
She was horrified.  
Her baby blue eyes widened behind her glasses as she looked at the images from the search. Fleshlight masturbators for men. Vibrating penises modeled after famous porn stars, varying in length, girth, color, texture. Sex dolls modeled after porn actresses.   
“Emily?”   
She jumped at Rudy’s concerned voice. She looked over at her boss. “Huh?”  
“You made some sort of strangled sound,” he frowned worriedly at her. “Are you all right?”  
She shook her head. “Yeah, no… I’m horrified,” she admitted, pointing at her computer and pushing away from her desk. “Just… Have a look.”   
“You look a little green,” Rudy rolled his chair over to her desk as she stood up.  
“I feel squicked out right now,” she admitted. “I need to scrub my hands.”  
She barely heard Rudy’s exclamation of surprise when she ducked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She adjusted the water to as hot a temperature as she could stand before scrubbing her hands raw. She still could not get the sensation of that plush, velvety texture from her fingers.  
“I should have realized this was the same as the material used on the sex bots’ nether regions,” Rudy commented when she returned.  
“I don’t want to know how you know this, Rudy,” she whined. “Please don’t say anything else!”  
He shot her a look before rolling back to his station, muttering to himself about needing to go to a store to ask about manufacturers and product samples.  
Emily groaned as she dropped back into her chair and turned to her computer. Reluctantly she grabbed her notebook and pen to write down product names and run a search on toy stores in the city. Unfortunately either she or Rudy would be the ones going to those stores.  
She slipped her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. It’ll have to be me. Rudy will quickly forget he’s there for the investigation. I won’t. But I haven’t set foot in one of those stores since my freshman year of college when Heather Martins dragged me along for her sorority’s scavenger hunt.   
“What’ve you got, Rudy?”  
Kennex’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. Emily fumbled to turn off the computer monitor, praying like crazy no one noticed the screen.  
“Emily ran some tests on the synthetic skin of the left hand,” Rudy spoke up. “Upon running a search of the chemical makeup she has learned it is the same material used for sex toys.”   
Never had she wished harder for the floor to open up and just swallow her whole. She held still, hoping against hope that their eyesight was no better than a T-rex’s. If she didn’t move, they couldn’t see her.   
She carefully tugged her sleeves over her hands to curl her fingers into the cuffs.  
“Do you need any help with undercover work?” Her boss continued in a hopeful tone.   
“Nope, we’re not discussing any possible undercover work for this case,” John cut him off quickly. “What are your plans to identify the exact type of synthetic skin?”  
“Emily is researching different brands that match the chemical makeup and I believe looking into any shops that sell those products,” Rudy sounded disappointed. “Are you sure you do not need anyone to go undercover?”  
“I’m sure, Rudy.”  
“Rudy, what do you need me to do?” Dorian spoke up. “Ms. Williams said you could not extract the data chip.”  
“Ah, yes, we’ve got Arnold over here.”  
“Can’t believe you named the damn thing,” Kennex muttered.  
“I wasn’t the one who named him, Emily did,” Rudy pointed out, his defensive tone catching the younger tech’s attention.   
Emily flinched when she wheezed, her lungs straining to draw in air.   
“Emily?”  
“Ms. Williams?”  
She squeezed her eyes shut when Rudy and Dorian called her name at the same time. “I-I’m fine,” she wheezed again. She leaned forward and fumbled for the inhaler she’d tossed onto her desk earlier. Her hand shook as she quickly dosed herself with the albuterol. When she pushed her chair back to stand a hand gently squeezed her shoulder.  
“Give the medicine time to work, Ms. Williams, I will not relay the information I extract until you’re ready to join us,” Dorian murmured.   
She nodded, mustering up a smile for the DRN. “Thanks, D.”  
“Any time,” he nodded before pulling away.  
She watched Dorian and John walke over to the table where Rudy was leaning over the T-1 before she turned back to her desk. She reached up and absently rubbed at her breastbone as her mind unhelpfully replayed the concerned voices of her boss and the DRN.  
He never called out your name.  
She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t dwell on it, Em. Don’t let it get to you. You know where you stand.  
He doesn’t want you.  
She realized she was nearly clawing at her shirt when her nails raked hard through the cotton and scratched her flesh. She dropped her hand to her lap before pushing away from her desk and reluctantly joined the three men gathered around Arnold.  
“What’s the rest of the skin made out of?” John asked when Emily moved to stand beside rudy.  
“It’s…” she cleared her throat when her voice scratched, “made of the same synthetic skin as all the other Tertiary-1 androids. I will forward my report to Dorian for your investigation.”  
“Thanks. And the hand itself? Is it the original with the freaky skin or is it new?”  
“It’s definitely a modified aftermarket hand,” Rudy motioned toward the covered appendage. “We removed the skin and exposed the fiberglass skeletal hand. The materials used for the new hand are far more advanced than the fiberglass of the original skeleton. And…” he rounded the table to pull the cover from the hand. “Arnold’s fingers double as a hypodermic needle, a knife, a screwdriver, and a dart gun. I will remove the hand and send it to McGinnis for further testing, for blood and for the contents of the hypo.”  
“He originally was not equipped with an evil Inspector Gadget hands,” Emily pointed out.  
“Inspector Gadget?” John shot her a hard look.  
She shrank back. “Never mind, just a stupid observation,” she started to turn away from the table but Dorian gently put his hand on her shoulder.  
“An old cartoon, right?” He asked, frowning when she kept her head down. “Perhaps the person who modified Arnold drew inspiration from old cartoons and movies,” Dorian suggested. “I can run a search on--”  
“No, don’t,” Kennex groaned. “Just access his memory so we can get back to the precinct or back out on the streets. Quit wasting time.”  
“Ignore him, he’s been crabby all day,” Dorian murmured as he scanned the T-1 for the access to his data. “He’s threatened to shove me out onto the freeway once already.”  
“Dorian, sometime today?”  
The DRN glared at his partner as he pressed his hand to Arnold’s neck. “Scanning his memory banks now,” his voice held an irritated edge.  
He began projecting what he was retrieving. “None of this is recent,” he commented after a moment. “The time stamps for these recordings are three years old.”  
“Whoa, hold up,” John frowned. “I recognize that crime scene. Dorian, can you pause this?”  
Dorian stopped the playback, freezing the holographic image. “One of your cases?”  
“No,” Kennex shook his head, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “One of Sam’s. It was… I think it was his last big case.”  
Emily’s eyes widened. “The one he was working on when…”  
John dropped his hand, meeting her eyes across the table. “Yeah. I don’t think it was ever solved.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds himself feeling protective of Emily...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay, this chapter has been ready to post, I just now got around to it today. Things are crazy right now with the virus and the panic and rumors of a statewide shutdown here, and I've been doing what I can to make sure my daughter, pets and myself will be prepared. Thankfully we live out in the country on an old farm so we won't go stir crazy with cabin fever. I hope you all are staying safe as well. Love to you all!

Her chest grew tight again at the detective’s words. “That case… haunted him,” she gripped the table Arnold was laid out on when her knees wobbled. “He… Daddy always called me every night to let me know he made it home. It didn’t matter how late. I knew by the tone of his voice if it was a good day or bad, if the case was solved or if it was a rough one. He hated that the trail went cold on him.” She winced when her lungs rattled on a breath. “But he was like a dog with a bone.”  
“He wouldn’t let it go,” John nodded. “Marty and I helped Sam on that case when we could, but a big lead on inSyndicate dropped right into our laps. Sam tabled his investigation to join me on that raid.” Haunted hazel eyes met hers. “I should’ve told him no.”  
She shook her head. “Daddy always did what he wanted, you know that probably as well as I do,” her voice rasped as her lungs constricted. She patted at her pockets as she pushed the words she needed to say out, “He talked about you... a… a lot, Detec...tive, he thought the w… world of you… and y… your dad.” Her vision greyed at the edges.   
“Emily, where’s your inhaler?” Rudy’s voice sounded muffled.   
“She left it on her desk,” John shoved away from the table, jogging to the desk and returning quickly. “Here,” he uncapped the inhaler before he pressed it in Emily’s hand.  
Emily’s hand shook as she lifted it up to dose herself. “S-sorry,” she rasped out. “Anx-anxiety is sky-high.”  
“Do you have medication for the anxiety?” Dorian asked, cupping her elbow to guide her to her desk.  
She nodded as she sank into her desk chair. “It doesn’t help.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “What did you find on our friend Arnold’s ownership history?”  
“Three owners have been registered, but I don’t believe the last owner legally acquired him,” the DRN looked over his shoulder at John. “I’ve sent everything I’ve uncovered so far to you but I need to look at his memory again.”  
John nodded. “I’ll call Maldonado and let her know what we’ve found so far,” he stepped back as he pulled out his phone. “You gonna be okay?” He turned back to Emily.  
She lifted her eyes to his, surprise flooding her to find genuine concern in his hazels. She shrugged, “I just need to keep busy.”  
He frowned. “Can you get me a list of the…” he motioned toward her computer, “... uh, product that uses the same type of synthetic skin and a list of stores that carry those things?”  
“I was already working on it before you guys arrived,” she twisted her chair to face her computer. She reached for her notebook instead, not willing to turn the monitor back on if Kennex was still standing behind her. “I’ll get the list to you before I go home tonight.”  
“Thanks.”  
When he didn’t walk away she turned her head to look over his shoulder. “Is there anything else, Detective?”  
He hesitated before shaking his head. “No… Actually, yes.”  
Her brow furrowed as she avoided meeting his eyes.   
“Sam preferred using notebooks to tablets and computers for his notes,” he propped his hands on his hips. “Always wrote everything down before typing them up for official documentation.”  
“He said by writing things by hand helped him retain information better,” she shrugged. “And typing them up further ingrained the information into his memory. Sure, he could record the interviews and review the audio and visual later but this way he could jot down facial expressions, make notes on body language, tone of voice, eyes, little details you can’t see clearly when reviewing any recordings of the initial interviews.”  
“Huh,” John frowned thoughtfully. “Never thought of that.”  
“Daddy was old school,” she shrugged.   
“And you?” He motioned to her notebook.  
“It’s easier.”  
It doesn’t irritate the scarring on my left arm.  
She kept that to herself. “I’m sure you have more important things to do than discuss the merits of archaic forms of taking notes, Detective Kennex,” she tugged at the cuff of her left sleeve when she realized she could see the faint line of an old scar. “I need to finish compiling that list for you, anyway.”  
She waited for him to walk away before she turned the computer screen on.   
“It’s Kennex,” she heard him as he paced away. “Hey, you remember Sam’s last case? The Community U murders? I need everything we got on that case. We’ve got a new lead. That android at the bank heist this morning? Dorian accessed some old footage from one of the murders. I want to be lead on this one. We’re still at Rudy’s, why? She’s stunned but otherwise fine, she’s working on getting a list compiled for me on the android.”  
“John, you need to see this,” Dorian spoke up.  
“Sandra, I’ll touch base once we get back to HQ, Dorian’s got something for me. What is it, D?”  
Emily turned away from her computer and the unpleasant task of scrolling through sex toys (why the hell would anyone use toys that felt like that?) and made her way over. She halted in her tracks when both Dorian and Rudy looked at her, shaking their heads.  
“Emily, you don’t need to see this,” Dorian immediately shut down the footage he was projecting.  
But not before she saw the images.  
Not before she saw her own face.  
“That… That was me,” she stammered.   
“Yeah,” Rudy nodded. “It looked like you were at Community University.”  
“Dorian, pull it back up,” Emily approached the table.   
“You don’t want to see this, Ms. Williams,” Dorian shook his head, his blue eyes flicking from hers to John when the detective moved to stand beside her.  
“There for several months I felt like I was being followed,” she folded her arms over her stomach. “I’m not sure when it started but I remember a couple of my visits to the hospital, to see…” She shot a quick glance at John before looking away, “to see you, Detective. I mentioned it once or twice that I felt like I was being watched.”  
“Do you remember when it started?” Kennex stepped in front of her.   
She shook her head, tightening her arms around herself. “I was in a funk for a while, with losing Daddy and trying to keep going with my education and my dreams. There at first I thought it was my anxiety making me feel things… It may have been happening the entire time, I don’t… I don’t know,” she looked up with a silent apology in her eyes. “I just didn’t really realize it until a few days before I interviewed for the internship with Rudy, didn’t say anything to anyone until I told…”  
“Until you told me,” he finished for her. “Why tell me, why tell someone in a coma?”  
“I told Sandy,” she flashed an uneasy smile. “She knew. But without any proof, other than me getting anxious, there was nothing she could do. The department was already stretched thin, she couldn’t spare even an MX to shadow me. I made sure to always be vigilant about my surroundings. I was either at school, here at the lab, or at the hospital. I always texted Sandy to let her know where I was, and every night when I got home I made sure every window was secured and the door was locked up.”  
“Emily has three locks on her door,” Rudy interjected.  
“Do you have a gun?” Kennex shot Lom an exasperated look for the unnecessary interruption.  
“Daddy’s guns are locked up in a safe in the back of my closet,” she frowned. “I don’t know how to handle a weapon.”  
“You’re gonna learn.”  
Her eyes widened at the do not argue with me, you’re gonna do it whether you like it or not look he leveled on her. “I don’t like guns.”  
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. “Can’t believe Sam never taught you.”  
“He was afraid it would trigger my anxiety and my asthma,” she pointed out. “I was afraid, too. Guns scare me. Just the thought of actually holding one in my hands is enough to spike my anxiety.”  
“Ms. Williams,” Dorian spoke up, drawing her attention from the hard hazel eyes of the detective towering over her. “John’s right, you need to learn how to handle a gun. I can work with you to help you overcome your anxieties regarding firearms. With this case reopening, I’m afraid you’ll be stalked once more. Whoever it is thinks you know something.”  
She shook her head, “But I don’t know anything about it,” she turned her attention back to John. “Daddy never told me any details about any of his cases. When he talked to me about his day, he would tell me if it was a good one or a bad one, if he was getting anywhere or if the lead turned cold, but he never told me anything else.”  
“Sam was a damned good detective,” Kennex nodded. “He knew how far to bend the rules to get results. But you’re his daughter, they know that. And with you working with Rudy, working with us, that puts you in the spotlight again. We’ll make sure you’re safe, but you need to get a gun and learn how to use it.”  
“And tell us immediately if you feel like you’re being watched or followed,” Dorian added. “John, I’ve downloaded the footage. I would feel better if Captain Maldonado was viewing it with Ms. Williams.”  
The detective nodded in agreement, his jaw ticking. “No arguments, Emily,” he leveled that look on her again. “How long will it take to finish your list?”  
“There are too many stores in the city for me to write them all down,” she reached up to massage her temples. “Most… the sketchiest ones are near the Wall and in the Koln Avenue District. I’ll get it typed up and sent to you--”  
“If I could see the list, I could scan and send it out,” Dorian suggested. “You won’t need to type it up.”  
“Finish up that list and head to the precinct,” John instructed her. “And call me when you’re on your way.”  
“I don’t have your number,” she pointed out.  
He sighed heavily before turning toward her desk. He pulled her notebook toward him and leaned over to write something down on a blank page. “I should get your number, too.”  
Emily joined him at the desk, carefully taking the pen he held out to her. She wrote down her number before adding her name and gingerly tore it from the notebook. “Don’t lose it, I don’t give my number out to just anyone. I don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”  
“Don’t worry, I won’t lose it,” he promised as he took a step back. “Let me know when you’re heading to the precinct.”  
She nodded, looking up to meet his hazel eyes. “Detective?”   
“Yeah?” He stopped his retreat.  
“Am I in danger?” She blanched at the slight tremor in her voice, but it could not be helped. Dorian’s refusal to let her view the footage he’d uncovered scared her.  
“I don’t know,” he shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna lie to you. I really don’t know if this is just old footage or if there’s more to this than we know or understand.”  
She wrapped her arms around herself, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip in a defensive hug. That one word hurt, a stinging reminder of the chilling rejection weeks before. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, steadying if rattly breath before exhaling. “I… um… I appreciate you being honest,” she cleared her throat to speak. I’ll arrange with Dorian about learning how to handle a gun, even though I don’t want to.”  
“Emily,” he stepped forward. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Your dad was--”  
Emily held her hands up, “If that’s the only reason you’re protecting me, because of some sense of duty to my dad, don’t bother. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”  
“Emily--”  
“I will call when I’ve got the list finished, Detective,” she turned her back to him and dropped into her chair before he could see the pain reflecting in her eyes. She reached for her notebook and pen, determined to focus on the job and not dwell on the hurtful words she’d stopped him from saying. But when her eyes dropped to the half-torn page and landed on the phone number and the words John had written down she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.  
Put this in your phone and memorize it too. If you ever feel like you’re being watched or followed, call me. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll answer.-- John.   
Tears burned and blurred her eyes as she reread the note. She knew that handwriting. She was achingly familiar with it.  
It perfectly matched the words imprinted on her thigh.

Her dismissal stung.  
John bit back a sigh before turning away from Emily to join Dorian and Rudy once more. “We should head back to the precinct. I need to talk to Maldonado and get that case file. And we need to figure out why that thing,” he pointed at the android on the table, lowering his voice, “was surveilling Emily.”  
“I am running background checks on his previous owners,” Dorian murmured. “Perhaps there is a connection between one of them and the case Detective Williams had been working on.”  
Kennex nodded. “Look for a connection to any of the cases he’d worked, including the ones he helped me with,” he suggested. “Rudy, keep me posted on anything else you learn about the T-1.”  
“I am curious about the liquid in the hypodermic needle,” Rudy nodded toward the upgraded hand. “Once I’ve removed the hand I will take it to the crime lab.”  
“Don’t leave Emily here alone,” John’s hazel eyes narrowed. “I don’t want her by herself.”  
“I’ll wait and deliver it when she heads to the precinct later,” the scientist promised.   
“Good. D, let’s go,” John tipped his head toward the stairs.   
His eyes landed on Emily’s back as he turned to head out. “Let me know when you do, Rudy,” he tossed over his shoulder. “And have McGinnis call me with the results, too, will ya?”  
“Sure thing, John,” Rudy replied.   
Kennex reluctantly tore his eyes from Emily before jogging up the stairs behind Dorian. Once they stepped outside he glanced over at the DRN. “What else did you see, Dorian?”  
“The earliest footage I’d found of Ms. Williams showed her with her father having dinner at a diner,” Dorian opened the passenger door of the car. “I also found footage of Detective Williams with you, your old partner Martin Pelham, and Captain Maldonado.”  
John braced his right hand on the roof of the car as he glared at his partner. “On a case?”  
“Yes, and at McQuade’s,” the android frowned worriedly. “There’s also footage of you in the hospital, John. With Ms. Williams.”  
“How the hell--”  
“Surveillance,” Dorian’s jaw tightened. “They hacked the surveillance.”  
“How?”  
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.”  
“You do that,” the detective muttered before climbing into the driver’s seat.  
“The conversation you were having with Ms. Williams earlier seemed intense,” Dorian spoke up moments later.   
“She thinks I’m only interested in protecting her because her dad was a friend,” John admitted. “She shut me out.” He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand to the wheel, “I remember one night Sam, Marty and I were on surveillance. Sam’s wife had called, something she never did unless it was an emergency. Lizzie was upset with herself for pushing Emily too hard about something and she shut down, shut her out.” He glanced over at Dorian before turning his attention back to the road. “Sam called Captain Hennings and pulled a few strings to get someone to replace him so he could go home. Hennings called my dad to come in. Sam didn’t open up about that phone call until shortly after Lizzie died. She was sick, Emily wasn’t taking it very well and when Liz wanted to talk about it, Emily shut down. It was… Sam said it was her default way of handling situations that upset her. She would shut down, shut everyone out if someone pushed her into opening up.”  
“Like you?” Dorian watched his partner grimace. “You refuse to speak at the anger management classes.”  
“That’s different,” John shot him a glare. “I’m not opening up to a damn stranger about my problems. Yes, I said problems. I’ve got ‘em. No group therapy session is going to help me come to terms with any of this,” he gestured toward his leg and head. “I shut down any attempt to get me to open up, I don’t completely shut down and shut everyone out for days on end.”  
“No, you just threaten to throw them out on the freeway or you go to the shooting range to blow off steam,” Dorian shook his head. “How can you know for sure Ms. Williams shut you out?”  
“The look in her eyes,” the detective frowned. “She was stunned, upset, scared, hurt, then nothing. It’s like she flipped a switch on her emotions. The blank look in her eyes told me she was shutting me out.” He gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled hold. “This case is already opening up some old wounds. I don’t want to add to it.” Any more than I already have, he added silently.  
“Your concern for Ms. Williams seems to go deeper than her being your mentor’s daughter,” the DRN looked out the passenger window.   
John’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I’m remembering bits and pieces of her visits,” he admitted. “Her conversations.”  
“Is she your soulmate?”  
Kennex glanced over, meeting his partner’s eyes. “I don’t know. She’s familiar to me, very familiar, but I don’t remember anything more than her scent, her touch, her voice. Her laugh.” The pillowy press of her lips on his stubbled cheek. Dorian did not need to know that. He cleared his throat as he focused on the road.   
“She wrote her number down, didn’t she?”  
“Yeah, it’s in my pocket.”  
“You gonna compare her handwriting to your soulmark?” Dorian reached up to touch the St. Christopher’s medal still dangling from the rearview mirror.  
John glared at the pendant. “No.”  
He already knew Emily’s handwriting matched his soulmark. She’d left cards for him at the hospital for his birthday and for Christmas, even one for Valentine’s Day. Those were safely tucked away at home, along with a short note she had written and apparently discarded before Sandra had grabbed it and slipped it into his bag the day he was discharged from the hospital.   
He huffed out a breath. “Even if she is, D, it’s not real until I remember.”  
Dorian gave him an understanding smile. “Do you want her to be?”  
“She’s too good for me,” he grumbled.   
The DRN’s smile widened into a grin. “That’s true.”  
“You’re not supposed to agree with me, Dorian,” he grumbled.   
“And you didn’t answer my question,” Dorian pointed out.  
“Not going to, either,” John pressed his foot down even more on the accelerator. “Let’s just focus on the case and find out why someone’s had Emily under surveillance. I have a feeling that damned android was planted at the crime scene and I want to know why.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While filling Maldonado in on the video footage Dorian found, John lets out his frustrations about Emily being targeted. Sandra makes a startling suggestion why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait on the update! You'd think with all this down time I'd have plenty of time to work on Soulbound, Redemption, Myne Owne Hertis Rote and Cupid's Arrow. (Instead I've been knocking out some deep cleaning and tackling a project I've put off for nearly two years-- cleaning up an old pie safe my grandma promised me was mine when I was 12).  
> Anyway, other than procrastinating on writing (I have several tabs open on my Chromebook) and getting housework done, my daughter and I are healthy (if we don't count her chronic migraines) and trying to stay sane. Online schooling for her sucks, not being able to hug old friends when I see them at the store sucks (I only go in if something I need is not available online, and I'm taking precautions).  
> I hope you all are staying safe as well. Thanks for sticking with my stories!  
> Love you guys!

John walked into Maldonado’s office and shut the door. “We’ve got more information on that synthetic,” he grabbed a chair and dropped into it. “You’re not gonna like this.”  
Sandra turned to give him her full attention, brow furrowing over her brown eyes. “Why’s that?”  
“Dorian was able to download the memory from that thing. Someone was surveilling…” He looked over his shoulder before leaning closer and dropping his voice. “Someone had Emily under surveillance. Had us all under surveillance. At crime scenes. At McQuade’s. At dinner. At the damned hospital.” His jaw tightened. “They hacked the security system at the hospital, footage of me, of Emily visiting me.”  
Sandra’s eyes widened. “Do you think it’s tied to inSyndicate?”  
“That damn thing was planted at a crime scene,” he shrugged. “But why Emily? Why her? She’s not a cop, she’s never been involved in any investigation for inSyndicate, she wasn’t even working for Rudy before the ambush!”  
“She’s your soulmate,” Sandra reminded him. “Whether you believe it or not, Emily is.”   
“You, Dorian and Rudy are the only ones who know that, aside from Emily and myself,” John sighed heavily.   
“You’ve accepted that Emily is your soulmate?”  
John met her warm gaze. “I know her voice, her touch, her perfume. Her handwriting matches my words. I’ve remembered bits and pieces of her conversations, but I don’t remember her saying my words. Until I do… It won’t be real.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Still doesn’t answer why inSyndicate had Emily under surveillance!”  
Sandra tilted her head, brows furrowed as she tried to meet John’s averted frown. “Anna.”  
“Anna? How the hell would she know about Emily?” John’s expression darkened. “I found out my first day back on the job, after I reactivated Dorian!”  
“Your soulmark,” Maldonado sat back, folding her arms over her chest. “Your words. Anna could’ve easily deduced exactly who Emily was.”  
“Did you know?” John braced his forearms on his knees as he slumped forward, giving his friend a hard glare.   
She nodded.   
“How long have you known?”  
“Long enough,” Sandra admitted. “Does Emily know about the surveillance?” She redirected the conversation back to the disturbing discovery and away from John’s probing questions.  
“Just what she saw before Dorian stopped the playback,” he reached up to rub at his temples. “She told us she felt like she’d been watched for a while, back when I was in the coma.”  
“She told me about it when she first suspected she was being watched,” the captain straightened in her chair. “She told me not to pull an officer from the streets to follow her, she would check in via text at certain times and came up with a code word to use if something happened.”  
His head snapped up. “She ever have to use it?”  
“No,” she shook her head.   
“With inSyndicate still out there, with Anna still out there, I want Emily protected,” John told her.   
“She won’t go for that,” Sandra warned. “She won’t admit it but I know she fears it will trigger her anxiety and her asthma. I’ll talk to her--”  
“She’ll be here sometime this afternoon with a list for me, and to sit down with you, me and Dorian to review that damned android’s video footage.”  
“Good.”  
“And she’s supposed to call me before she leaves the lab,” John pushed to his feet. “Were you able to get me what I needed?”  
Sandra scooted her chair back and reached under her desk. “I don’t know where his notebook is, John. When I cleaned out his desk and locker and separated personal stuff from city property, I might’ve dropped the notebook in the box to take to Emily,” she set a box on the desk. “I’ll ask her when she gets here.”   
John stood up and grabbed the box. “We have any other big cases right now?”  
She shook her head. “Nothing major, no. I’ll get everyone on board and let them know you’re lead detective.”  
“Thank you, Sandra,” he nodded before ducking out of the office.  
His phone started ringing as he crossed the bullpen to his desk. Shifting the box to his left arm he fished the phone out. “Kennex.”  
“Detective, it’s Emily Williams.”  
John fumbled the box when he heard the tremble in her voice. “Emily, are you okay?”  
“Y-yeah.”  
“You don’t sound okay,” he eased the box onto his desk and headed for an empty interrogation room so he could hear her better.   
“I’m fine, I had an asthma attack after you left,” she admitted after a bit. “It was mild, but Rudy is beside himself. I just need a drink and…”  
“And what?” He prompted when she fell silent.  
“Nothing,” she sighed. “I managed to finish the list. I have the stores listed by district to make it easier.”  
“Thank you,” he turned to face the bullpen. “You’re still headed this way, right?”  
“Yeah, I’m… I’ll head that way in a few minutes.”  
“Be careful. When you get here, just head to Sandra’s office. Dorian and I will meet you there.”  
“Sounds good, Detective,” she agreed.  
“John. You can call me John.”  
“All right… John. See you in a bit.”  
She clicked off before he could respond.  
Something tickled at the edge of his memory. He squeezed his eyes shut as he concentrated, not wanting to lose it.  
“My lunch break is almost over,” her voice filled with regret. “But I’ll be back after work.”   
He felt his blanket lift and resettle before her slender hands smoothed the wrinkles out. His heart skipped a beat when she rested her hand over his chest. I look forward to every visit, Emily, he longed to tell her, breathing in her warm scent as she leaned over him.  
“I’ll see you later, John,” she whispered before her lips pressed to his cheek.   
Be safe out there, Sweetheart. Come back to me. His heart ached when Emily pulled away.   
His legs buckled. John braced his hand on the table to steady himself as the intensity of the emotions, affection, worry, love, assaulted him.  
Love stronger than what he had ever felt for Anna.  
Blindly he reached for the nearest chair and pulled it out, falling heavily onto it. He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He let out a ragged sigh. Dammit. Why the hell can’t I remember her?  
He jumped when someone tapped on the door. He looked up sharply with a glare firmly in place before seeing Dorian.   
He joined his partner. “Emily’s on her way,” he kept his voice low. “She’s got the list for us.”  
“Is everything all right?”  
“Yeah,” he barely nodded. “I just… I had another memory pop free, of Emily visiting me.”  
Dorian shifted to give John his full attention. “Did you remember her first…” he trailed off when Kennex shook his head.  
“No,” he exhaled heavily. “Just a memory of her saying good-bye when her lunch break was ending and promising to come back after work.”  
Dorian folded his arms across his chest. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, John. What are you not telling me?”  
His jaw tightened as he shook his head again.   
“John, does it have anything to do with her being followed?”  
“No. Nothing like that. I… Jesus, D, I don’t even understand it,” he started to walk toward the bullpen. “Once I’ve figured it out, I’ll let you know.”

Emily slung her messenger bag over her neck and shoulder and locked her car. She drew in a deep breath and flinched when she wheezed. No, she shut her eyes and dropped her head back. Slow, easy breath in and out. No reason to be anxious. You’re just handing off information they need, and watching video surveillance with Sandy.   
She took another slow, easy breath, and another until the wheeze was barely a rattle. She patted her pockets just to reassure herself where the inhaler was, fished her identification out of her pocket and headed into the building.  
The bullpen was teeming with activity when she stepped off the elevator. She circled the perimeter, heading toward Sandy’s office like John had told her.   
Sandra met her at the door with a warm hug. “Hey, Kiddo,” she squeezed her.   
Emily melted into her godmother’s embrace. “How bad is it? The surveillance?”  
Maldonado pulled back. “I haven’t seen it yet.”  
“But you know something,” the younger woman’s eyes narrowed. “Sandy, you only hug me that tight when you’re worried.”  
Sandra chuckled. “You know me too well, Emmie,” she pulled back and gestured for Emily to follow. “We’ll discuss that with Kennex and Dorian when they get back. We’ll be meeting in the conference room, less claustrophobic.”  
Emily kept pace with Sandra’s determined stride. “They leave?”  
“Coffee run,” the captain nodded before opening a door. Once inside the room she turned her full attention on Emily. “How are you holding up with this?”  
The tech shrugged as she pulled her messenger bag’s strap over her head. “I’m scared,” she admitted, setting her bag down.. “I thought when the feeling of being followed stopped, that it was over, that it was nothing serious. But now… I’m honestly terrified to see what all Dorian saw in that footage.” She looked up at Sandra once more. “Whatever he saw… I know it’s bad, Sandy. If Detective Kennex wants me to learn how to handle a gun it’s gotta be. I wound up having an asthma attack after they left the lab.”  
“John has a very good reason for wanting to teach you how to handle a gun, Emmie,” Sandra reached up to cup Emily’s jaw. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to.”  
She nodded. “I know. And I will.” She managed a smile. “I looked up a few different types of handguns, but I don’t know what would be best for me.”  
“We’ll worry about that later,” Sandra brushed her thumb over Emily’s cheekbone before dropping her hands and stepping back. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure this doesn’t happen again, Emmie.”   
“I don’t want you pulling anyone from their job to shadow me,” Emily frowned at her. “I’ll get a gun, I’ll learn how to handle it, I’ll check in frequently, but I don’t want anyone taken away from keeping the city safe just to make sure I’m safe.” She turned back to the table and her bag. “If I feel like I’m being watched, I will let you and Rudy know.”  
“Okay,” Sandra agreed. “I want you to be safe, Em, but I won’t push.”  
“Thank you,” Emily pulled her notebook from her bag.   
Sandra’s eyes dropped to the spiral notebook. “Emily… The box I brought you of your dad’s personal belongings… was there a notebook in it?”  
“There were three,” she nodded. “I put them in the footlocker in my bedroom.”  
“Did you by chance look through them?” Sandra’s brow furrowed.   
“No,” Emily shook her head. “I… Are they related to this case?”  
“I hope they are, they weren’t with the evidence. John asked for everything we had on Sam’s last case, including the notebook.”  
“I can get it after we review the footage and go over my notes, I can bring it back here, or we can meet up somewhere…”  
“That’s something you need to discuss with John,” Sandra trailed off when the door opened behind them.  
“Discuss what with me?”  
Emily looked over her shoulder, her breath hitching at the intensity of the look John was giving her. “Um… the… uh… Daddy’s notebooks,” she wheezed out. “I have several at… at my apartment.”  
“I’ll follow you home to get them,” he nodded, joining them at the table with a box and a drink carrier. He looked at the three cups he held before handing one to Sandra. “Dorian’s on a call with Rudy regarding the android and the surveillance, he’ll be up in a bit, I hope.” He handed another cup to Emily.  
“I don’t drink coffee,” she offered him a shy smile.   
“It’s not coffee,” he smiled back. “I hope hot chocolate is all right.”  
Her smile widened as she reached for the cup. “I’ve been craving hot chocolate all afternoon,” she admitted.   
John dropped into the chair to her right. “I hope I got it right. The barista gave me a weird look when I ordered it.”  
Emily blushed when she realized John was watching her. “Kinda hard to mess up hot chocolate,” she pointed out.  
“Actually, when someone likes it a specific way and the person ordering it has a spotty memory, it is,” he grimaced. “I remembered your dad fixing hot chocolate a few times on stakeouts. He always fixed it a certain way, said it was how you liked it. Double the chocolate, double the foamy milk, double the whipped topping, and white chocolate shavings?”  
“It was our special hot chocolate for when I was having a rough day,” she whispered. “Sometimes Mom would make brownies if it was really bad.”  
“Will cupcakes work?” John pointed to the box on the table. “They were setting out vanilla cupcakes when I got there. I’m a donut guy myself but I’ve--”  
“Sorry that took so long,” Dorian walked in. “Rudy is on his way up from the forensics lab, he wants to see the footage as well.” His head tilted at the glare Kennex aimed at him. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”  
“No, your timing is perfect,” Sandra said at the same time John growled out a barely heard “yes”.  
Emily looked over at John, her eyebrows inching up when she realized he glaring at his partner. “Detective?”  
“John, please,” the glare melted away as Kennex returned his attention to her. “You, uh, brought your notebook,” he tipped his head toward the table.   
“Yes,” she grabbed it and handed it over. When John’s callused fingertips brushed hers she barely suppressed a shiver. “I still wish I’d had the time to type it all up and get it on celos for the investigation,” she gave him an apologetic smile.  
“This is perfect, Emily,” he smiled back before dropping his eyes to the notebook. He flipped it open and started thumbing through. “This is… very detailed,” he cleared his throat as his face darkened.   
“Very impressive sketches, Emily.” When had Dorian moved to look over John’s shoulder? “You have an eye for detail,” he reached out to trace a fingertip over one sketch in particular.  
John snapped the notebook shut and thrust it at his partner. “Don’t do that, D,” he growled.   
“Do what? Emily’s sketches is incredible, the bulging veins really stand out, and the labia--”  
“Yeah, Dorian, they do,” John cut him off with a frustrated groan, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Where the hell is Rudy?”  
“I’m right here,” Lom walked into the room. “What’d I miss?”  
“Have you seen Emily’s sketches?” Dorian started to open the notebook.  
Emily snatched it from his hands, her face flushed. “Later, Dorian, let’s… worry about this later, please?” She sank down further in her chair, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. I knew sketching those toys was a bad idea!  
John reached over and took the notebook from her. “We’ll get these copied and distributed, with no further commentary on the sketches,” he shot another glare at Dorian. “We ready to see that footage?”  
Emily looked up to see the much softer look he was directing at her. No. “Let’s get it over with,” she forced a smile.   
“If it’s too much, tell me and I will stop projecting the surveillance,” Dorian walked around the table to sit opposite her and John.   
Sandra dimmed the lights in the room and activated the privacy to frost the windows. As she took a seat at the end of the table, she nodded to Dorian.   
“From what I could gather, the surveillance started long before the ambush,” Dorian told them. “Everyone in this room was under surveillance, at crime scenes, at the bank, at school, out shopping, on a date, or out to dinner or at the bar to celebrate,” his brilliant blue eyes landed on Emily. “Are you ready for me to start projecting the footage, Emily?”  
“Yes,” she nodded.   
Her breath caught in her throat when the first video projected was of her father at a crime scene, pointing something out to John and Marty Pelham, his notebook in hand. “Dorian,” she leaned forward. “Can you pause and enhance on the notebook?” She squinted. “Those notebooks in the box you gave me, Sandy, they were pink,” she looked over at Maldonado.   
“I’ve gone through the itemized evidence logs for all of Sam’s other cases, none of them had pink notebooks,” Sandra nodded. “John, do you remember what color notebook he used for his last case?”  
“Pink,” he snorted. “I gave him hell for using pink notebooks, and he said it was all the store had at the time Emily was buying some,” he shot her an amused grin. “Marty and I thoroughly enjoyed teasing him about it.”  
“He told me,” she settled back in her chair. “He lied to you about the reason he had pink notebooks. Pink was the only color available that he hadn’t used yet, and neon colors were making a comeback.” She drew in a deep, slightly rattly breath, before nodding to Dorian to continue the playback. “He swore he’d never ask me to buy notebooks for him again.”  
The more she watched, the harder it was for her. Seeing her dad again, even on old surveillance footage, left an aching hole in her heart.   
“Stop the playback,” John’s voice startled her. “Emily, do you need to take a break from this?” He swiveled his chair to face her.  
She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought I could handle it, but… I can’t. Seeing the last time Daddy and I went to Mom’s grave for her birthday, or the last time he treated me to ice cream at the park…” She reached up to wipe away a tear that slipped down her cheek. “This isn’t about his last case, is it? Whoever was behind this was following all of us.” She noticed the look John and Sandra shared. “What, do you know something?”  
“No,” John’s eyes narrowed slightly at Sandra, as if he was silently warning her before turning to her.   
“Right, like the two of you didn’t have some kind of silent conversation just now,” Emily pushed to her feet. “Your misguided idea of trying to protect me needs a lot of work, Detective. If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comforts Emily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to go AWOL on this (or my other works!) I apologize for the looooooong absence. I've actually had this chapter done for a while, but did not like how short it was. I wanted to add on to it but yet what I have has a natural break which is ideal for a stopping point. I debated with myself on whether or not to go ahead and post what I have, and of all things a simple little post on Tumblr was the sign I needed.  
> If you're still with me, thank you! Part of the reason for the long absence from writing is I started a new full-time job in September and have been working a lot of overtime, with very little time off between it and my part-time position with a pet rescue. I'm exhausted, but thankful to have found a full time job!   
> I hope you all are safe, happy, healthy and ready to kiss 2020 goodbye! Have a safe and Happy New Year, and here's to (hopefully) a better 2021. Love you!

“John, let her go,” Sandra’s voice stopped him when he reached the door. 

“Sandra, she needs--” Kennex turned to give her an exasperated look.

“She needs breathing room right now,” the captain walked over to join him. “I was afraid it would be too much for her to handle.”

“Yeah,” he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “We tried to warn her, but she insisted.”

“She’s stubborn like Sam,” Sandra shook her head with a sad smile. “She just needs time to process everything.”

“I think I understand that more than anyone in this room, Sandra,” he spouted off as he lifted his head. “She needs to know…” he trailed off when he remembered Rudy and Dorian were in the conference room. He turned to the door and continued in a lower tone, “She’s not alone.”

Emily’s eyes slid shut when she heard the door to the conference room open. She made no effort to move, to shut the door to the room she was in. There was no sense in hiding from Sandy, the captain could easily pull up surveillance to find her. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, not ready to face anyone. Not yet.

She ignored the footsteps passing the room until the person immediately backtracked and stepped into the room with her. She held her breath as the door clicked shut and the person sank down beside her with a low groan.

“You’re not alone.”

Her head snapped up at the low, deep voice. Emily quickly reached up to swipe away the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Sure as hell feels like it,” she stuttered out, stunned that John was the one who came after her.

“I know,” John reached over to place his hand on her knee. “I think I know that better than anyone else in the conference room.” He fell silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing small circles on her knee. “I was having a hard time watching that video, too. Seeing Sam and Marty… I lost them, too, Emily. I know you’re hurting, I know you feel alone, but I have to carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life, the guilt of getting my best friend, my mentor, my entire team killed.”

“That ambush wasn’t your fault!” Emily turned to face him. She dashed another tear away. “You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn’t know. But I’m still responsible for their deaths,” the pain in his eyes tore at her heart. “They found out about the raid, they were ready for us.”

Emily’s brows furrowed. “Is there a mole in the department?”

“No. But someone was spying on us.” Guilt flashed in his eyes before he looked away. “Someone was spying on me and I was too blind to see it.”

“Do you know who?”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah,” his reply was gruff. 

Emily felt her lungs tighten. “Do… do you think that person was behind the surveillance?”

That jaw muscle ticked some more. John sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. Without any evidence to prove it, we can only guess who was behind the stalking and why they were stalking us.”

“All of you were a threat to inSyndicate,” Emily flinched when her chest rattled. “Even Rudy behind the scenes. But where do I fit in? I’m nobody important to them.”

“Where’s your inhaler?” 

“I… got it…” She wheezed, straightening her legs so she could fish it out of her pocket. “Sorry…”

John shook his head. “Not your fault, Sweetheart.”

She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain gripping her chest. 

The detective reached out to steady her hand when she trembled. “You okay?”

“I will be,” she rasped before administering the medication. She let her head fall back against the wall. “Answer… answer my question?”

John couldn’t help the small smile at her stubborn determination to get a straight answer. “You really are as stubborn as Sam.”

“H-have to be.”

“Stop talking and let the meds do their thing,” he gave her a mock glare. “I’ll answer your question.”

“Truthfully?” She turned her head to look at him.

He nodded. “To the best of my knowledge. It’s just speculation at the moment, Sandra suggested it earlier.” He bent his right leg and propped his forearm on his knee. “Anna.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “Anna… your…?” Pain flared through her chest. The woman he’d loved. 

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. It’s bad enough that entire relationship was a lie. She used me for intel. She spied on me, she had bugs planted in my apartment. She cost me my leg, my memory, seventeen months of my life... I remember she had a weird fascination with my soulmark, bordering on obsessive. I caught her trying to copy your handwriting once.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “That was a red flag but I was too damned blind to realize it.” He dropped his hands, “Sandra told me that Anna likely put it all together and figured out who you were.”

“That doesn’t answer why inSyndicate would follow me… unless they think I could be used as leverage against you.” And that would not work in their favor.  
She jumped when John’s hand curled around hers.

“They won’t get to you, Emily,” he promised. “I won’t let that happen.”

“If you’re doing this as some sort of obliga--”

“I am not making this promise out of obligation or guilt or even because it’s my job as a damned cop, Emily. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he caught her eye. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sit with you until you’re ready to go back.”

She managed a shy smile. “I… I’d like that.”

“Fair warning, I’m terrible company, but I’m sure you already know that.”

She giggled. 

John smiled. “You’re supposed to disagree.”

Her breath caught at that beautiful smile. The way his dimples flashed and his eyes crinkled… and it was aimed at her.

Reluctantly she looked away. “Think we should head back?” She managed to ask once she could think clearly. His smile really was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” any trace of humor was gone from his voice. “If you’re up to it.”

“We don’t have to watch the… the rest of the surveillance footage, do we?” She met his steady gaze once more.

John shook his head. “No, you don’t have to. I’ll table it for another time. If there’s anything I think you should see I’ll let you know.” He pushed to his feet with a groan. “Ready?” He held a hand out to her.

Emily smiled a shy thanks as she slipped her hand into his. She nearly stumbled into him when he pulled her up.

The detective steadied her with his free hand. “You good?”

She nodded. “I am,” she ducked her head. “I sometimes get a little light-headed if I’ve had an asthma attack.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

She shrugged. “It’s not pleasant, but I’ll take the dizziness to blacking out. I’m okay, I promise,” she mustered a smile for him.

John’s worried frown softened slightly. “All right,” he dropped his hands and gestured toward the door.

He fell into step beside her as they headed back to the conference room. “You heading back to the lab after we’re done here?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m going to head home. I need to grab those notebooks for you, if you still need them.”

“Yeah,” John reached for the door. “After you.”

The muffled conversation inside the conference room abruptly stopped when John opened the door. “Don’t stop on our account.”

“I took the opportunity to scan and distribute Emily’s notes and lists,” Dorian spoke up as John held Emily’s chair for her. “Detective Stahl has already reached out to thank you and to let us know that we might need more assistance with visiting these establishments.”

“If I could be of any additional help with this, I can go to a few of the shops,” Emily ducked her head as she sat down to hide the hot blush staining her cheeks. “I mean… I do know what the material looks and feels like,” she added with a shudder.

“Emily, I’m not sure that’s a--”

“If you go, you’re going with one of us,” John interrupted Sandra. “Either me or Valerie. You sure as hell ain’t goin’ with Richard.” He twisted his chair to face the captain. “Emily has a point, Sandra. We could use all the extra help we can get, especially from these two.”

Rudy’s eyes widened slightly. “You do mean me, correct?”

Kennex suppressed a groan. “Yeah, Rudy. This is not going to be an undercover op, just a straight-forward investigation,” he pinned the technician with a warning look. “No getting side-tracked. We’ll hit the streets tomorrow after roll call, after a quick debrief with the rest of the team to get them up to speed.”

“Roll call is at eight, runs about thirty minutes,” Sandra added. “You two are vital to this investigation and we could use your input at debrief.” 

Emily paled. “Do I have to get up in front of everybody and speak?”

“No,” John gave her a sympathetic smile. “Just throw in your two cents as needed, and if Richard is an ass knock him down a peg or two. It won’t take much.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle fast enough. 

“Kennex,” the captain’s voice was a mixture of amusement and warning. “We will need a little bit of the video footage to show during debrief,” she sobered as she looked around the room. “Just enough to give the team an idea of how serious this is.”

“I’d rather not see any more footage, but I’ll be better prepared for it tomorrow,” Emily frowned. 

“I’ll put together some of the footage we’ve already watched,” Dorian assured her. “I can leave out any footage with you and your father--”

“No,” she cut him off. “It’ll have a bigger impact showing just how serious this is if you include footage of us. Someone invaded my privacy, Dorian. They followed us to the cemetery. They followed me on campus. To my doctor’s appointments. It hurt to relive those memories of my dad, but it pisses me off that someone spied on me, on us, and for what?” She slumped back in her chair. “I’ll know what to expect tomorrow, I’ll be prepared.” 

John looked over at her. “You sure?”

“I don’t really have a choice here,” she shook her head as she met his concerned hazel eyes before turning her attention back to Dorian. “Give me a heads up on what you’ll show?”

The DRN nodded, “I will show you before John picks me up in the morning.” 

"Okay," she agreed.


End file.
